THE  OREGON  TRAIL. 


FRANCIS   PARKMAN'S   WORKS 

Of  all  American  historians  be  is  the  most  peculiarly  Ameri- 
can, and  yet  he  is  the  broadest  and  most  cosmopolitan.  —  Prof. 
John  Fiskt. 

As  fascinating  as  any  of  Scott's  novels.  —  Bosttn  Pilot. 
Parkman's   descriptions  of  Indian   life   art  unsurfasstd.  — 
Boston  Advirtistr. 

His  place  is  alongside  */  the  greatest  historians.  —  London 
Athtnttum. 

Pioneers  of  France  in  the  New  World   ...  1  vol. 

The  Jesuits  in  North  America 1  vol. 

La  Salle  and  the  Discovery  of  the  Great  West  1  vol. 

The  Old  Regime  in  Canada 1  vol. 

Count  Prontenac  and  New   Prance   Under 

Louis  XIV 1  vol. 

A  Half-Century  of  Conflict 2  vols. 

Montcalm  and  Wolfe 2  vols. 

The  Conspiracy  of  Pontiac  and  the  Indian 

War  after  the  Conquest  of  Canada    .    .  2  vols. 

The  Oregon  Trail 1  vol. 


Life  of  Parkman.     By  Charles  Haight  Farnham  .     1  vol. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  Publishers,  Boston 


THE   WAR   WHOOP. 


THE 


OREGON   TRAIL 

SKETCHES 


OF 


PRAIRIE  AND  ROCKY-MOUNTAIN  LIFE 


BY 

FRANCIS  PARKMAN 


BOSTON 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 


a 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1872,  by 

FRANCIS  PARKMAN, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 

Copyright,  1898, 
BY  FRANCIS  PARKMAN. 

Copyright,  1897,  1898, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 

Copyright,  1900, 
BY  GRACE  P.  COFFIN  AND  KATHARINE  COOLIDGB. 

All  rights  reserved. 


8.  J.  PAKKHII.I,  <fc  Co.,  BOSTON,  U.  S.  A. 


CHAMPION  ACCESSIOR 
UBRABY 


TO 

THE  COMRADE  OF  A  SUMMER 

AND 

THE    FRIEND    OF    A    LIFETIME; 
QUINCY  ADAMS   SHAW. 


THE  "Oregon  Trail"  is  the  title  under  which  this 
book  first  appeared.  It  was  afterwards  changed  by  the 
publisher,  and  is  now  restored  to  the  form  in  which  it 
originally  stood  in  the  Knickerbocker  Magazine.  As 
the  early  editions  were  printed  in  my  absence,  I  did  not 
correct  the  proofs,  a  process  doubly  necessary,  since  the 
book  was  written  from  dictation.  The  necessary  correc- 
tions have  been  made  in  the  present  edition. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  ILLUSTRATED  EDITION. 


TN  the  preface  to  the  fourth  edition  of  this  book, 
•••  printed  in  1872,  I  spoke  of  the  changes  that  had 
already  come  over  the  Far  West.  Since  that  time 
change  has  grown  to  metamorphosis.  For  Indian  tee- 
pees, with  their  trophies  of  bow,  lance,  shield,  and 
dangling  scalplocks,  we  have  towns  and  cities,  resorts 
of  health  and  pleasure  seekers,  with  an  agreeable  society, 
Paris  fashions,  the  magazines,  the  latest  poem,  and  the 
last  new  novel.  The  sons  of  civilization,  drawn  by  the 
fascinations  of  a  fresher  and  bolder  life,  thronged  to 
the  western  wilds  in  multitudes  which  blighted  the 
charm  that  had  lured  them. 

The  buffalo  is  gone,  and  of  all  his  millions  nothing  is 
left  but  bones.  Tame  cattle  and  fences  of  barbed  wire 
have  supplanted  his  vast  herds  and  boundless  grazing 
grounds.  Those  discordant  serenaders,  the  wolves  that 
howled  at  evening  about  the  traveller's  camp-fire,  have 
succumbed  to  arsenic  and  hushed  their  savage  music. 
The  wild  Indian  is  turned  into  an  ugly  caricature  of  his 
conqueror ;  and  that  which  made  him  romantic,  terrible, 
and  hateful,  is  in  large  measure  scourged  out  of  him. 
The  slow  cavalcade  of  horsemen  armed  to  the  teeth 
has  disappeared  before  parlor  cars  and  the  effeminate 
comforts  of  modern  travel. 


Vlll  PREFACE  TO   THE  ILLUSTRATED   EDITION. 

The  rattlesnakes  have  grown  bashful  and  retiring. 
The  mountain  lion  shrinks  from  the  face  of  man,  and 
even  grim  "  Old  Ephraim,"  :  the  grizzly  bear,  seeks  the 
seclusion  of  his  dens  and  caverns.  It  is  said  that  he  is 
no  longer  his  former  self,  having  found  by  an  intelli- 
gence not  hitherto  set  to  his  credit,  that  his  ferocious 
strength  is  no  match  for  a  repeating  rifle;  with  which 
discovery  he  is  reported  to  have  grown  diffident,  and 
abated  the  truculence  of  his  more  prosperous  days. 
One  may  be  permitted  to  doubt  if  the  blood-thirsty  old 
savage  has  really  experienced  a  change  of  heart ;  and 
before  inviting  him  to  single  combat,  the  ambitious  ten- 
derfoot, though  the  proud  possessor  of  a  Winchester 
with  sixteen  cartridges  in  the  magazine,  would  do  well 
to  consider  not  only  the  quality  of  his  weapon,  but  also 
that  of  his  own  nerves. 

He  who  feared  neither  bear,  Indian,  nor  devil,  the  all- 
daring  and  all-enduring  trapper,  belongs  to  the  past,  or 
lives  only  in  a  few  gray-bearded  survivals.  In  his  stead 
we  have  the  cowboy,  and  even  his  star  begins  to  wane. 

The  Wild  West  is  tamed,  and  its  savage  charms  have 
withered.  If  this  book  can  help  to  keep  their  memory 
alive,  it  will  have  done  its  part.  It  has  found  a  power- 
ful helper  in  the  pencil  of  Mr.  Remington,  whose  pic- 
tures are  as  full  of  truth  as  of  spirit,  for  they  are  the 
work  of  one  who  knew  the  prairies  and  the  mountains 
before  irresistible  commonplace  had  subdued  them. 

*  Alias  "  Old  Caleb  "  and  «  Old  Enoch." 
BOSTON,  16  September,  1892. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FOURTH  EDITION. 


HPHE  following  sketches  first  appeared  in  1847.  A 
summer's  adventures  of  two  youths  just  out  of  col- 
lege might  well  enough  be  allowed  to  fall  into  oblivion, 
were  it  not  that  a  certain  interest  will  always  attach  to 
the  record  of  that  which  has  passed  away  never  to  return. 
This  book  is  the  reflection  of  forms  and  conditions  of 
life  which  have  ceased,  in  great  measure,  to  exist.  It 
mirrors  the  image  of  an  irrevocable  past. 

I  remember  that,  as  we  rode  by  the  foot  of  Pike's  Peak, 
when  for  a  fortnight  we  met  no  face  of  man,  my  com- 
panion remarked,  in  a  tone  any  thing  but  complacent,  that 
a  time  would  come  when  those  plains  would  be  a  grazing 
country,  the  buffalo  give  place  to  tame  cattle,  farm-houses 
be  scattered  along  the  water-courses,  and  wolves,  bears, 
and  Indians  be  numbered  among  the  things  that  were. 
We  condoled  with  each  other  on  so  melancholy  a  prospect, 
but  we  little  thought  what  the  future  had  in  store.  We 
knew  that  there  was  more  or  less  gold  in  the  seams  of 
those  untrodden  mountains ;  but  we  did  not  foresee  that 
it  would  build  cities  in  the  waste  and  plant  hotels  and 
gambling-houses  among  the  haunts  of  the  grizzly  bear. 
We  knew  that  a  few  fanatical  outcasts  were  groping  their 


X  PREFACE  TO   THE   FOURTH   EDITION 

way  across  the  plains  to  seek  an  asylum  from  gentile  per- 
secution ;  but  we  did  not  imagine  that  the  polygamous 
hordes  of  Mormon  would  rear  a  swarming  Jerusalem  in 
the  bosom  of  solitude  itself.  We  knew  that,  more  and 
more,  year  after  year,  the  trains  of  emigrant  wagons 
would  creep  in  slow  procession  towards  barbarous  Oregon 
or  wild  and  distant  California ;  but  we  did  not  dream  how 
Commerce  and  Gold  would  breed  nations  along  the  Pa- 
cific, the  disenchanting  screech  of  the  locomotive  break 
the  spell  of  weird  mysterious  mountains,  woman's  rights 
invade  the  fastnesses  of  the  Arapahoes,  and  despairing 
savagery,  assailed  in  front  and  rear,  vail  its  scalp-locks 
and  feathers  before  triumphant  commonplace.  We  were 
no  prophets  to  foresee  all  this ;  and,  had  we  foreseen  it, 
perhaps  some  perverse  regrets  might  have  tempered  the 
ardor  of  our  rejoicing. 

The  wild  cavalcade  that  defiled  with  me  down  the 
gorges  of  the  Black  Hills,  with  its  paint  and  war-plumes, 
fluttering  trophies  and  savage  embroidery,  bows,  arrows, 
lances,  and  shields,  will  never  be  seen  again.  Those  who 
formed  it  have  found  bloody  graves,  or  a  ghastlier  burial 
in  the  maws  of  wolves.  The  Indian  of  to-day,  armed 
with  a  revolver  and  crowned  with  an  old  hat;  cased, 
possibly,  in  trousers  or  muffled  in  a  tawdry  shirt,  is  an 
Indian  still,  but  an  Indian  shorn  of  the  picturesqueness 
which  was  his  most  conspicuous  merit. 

The  mountain  trapper  is  no  more,  and  the  grim  ro- 
mance of  his  wild,  hard  life  is  a  memory  of  the  past. 

As  regards  the  motives  which  sent  us  to  the  mountains, 
our  liking  for  them  would  have  sufficed ;  but  in  my  case, 
another  incentive  was  added.  I  went  in  great  measure 


PREFACE  TO   THE   FOURTH   EDITION.  XI 

as  a  student,  to  prepare  for  a  literary  undertaking  of 
which  the  plan  was  already  formed,  but  which,  from  the 
force  of  inexorable  circumstances,  is  still  but  half  accom- 
plished. It  was  this  that  prompted  some  proceedings  on 
my  part,  which,  without  a  fixed  purpose  in  view,  might  be 
charged  with  youthful  rashness.  My  business  was  obser- 
vation, and  I  was  willing  to  pay  dearly  for  the  opportu- 
nity of  exercising  it. 

Two  or  three  years  ago,  I  made  a  visit  to  our  guide, 
the  brave  and  true-hearted  Henry  Chatillon,  at  the  town 
of  Carondelet,  near  St.  Louis.  It  was  more  than  twenty 
years  since  we  had  met.  Time  hung  heavy  on  his  hands, 
as  usual  with  old  mountain-men  married  and  established ; 
his  hair  was  touched  with  gray,  and  his  face  and  figure 
showed  tokens  of  early  hardship ;  but  the  manly  simplicity 
of  his  character  was  unchanged.  He  told  me  that  the 
Indians  with  whom  I  had  been  domesticated,  a  band  of 
the  hated  Sioux,  had  nearly  all  been  killed  in  fights  with 
the  white  men. 

The  faithful  Deslauriers  is,  I  believe,  still  living  on  the 
frontier  of  Missouri.  The  hunter  Raymond  perished  in 
the  snow  during  Fremont's  disastrous  passage  of  the 
mountains  in  the  winter  of  1848. 

BOSTON,  March  30, 1872. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I.  THE  FRONTIER 1 

n.  BREAKING  THE  ICE 10 

m.  FORT  LEAVENWORTH 21 

IV.  "JUMPING  OFF" o    .    .  25 

V,  THE  "BiG  BLUE" 37 

VI.  THE  PLATTE  AND  THE  DESERT 51 

VII.  THE  BUFFALO 65 

VIII.  TAKING  FRENCH  LEAVE  .....•.,.  80 

IX.  SCENES  AT  FORT  LARAMIE 97 

X.  THE  WAR  PARTIES 113 

XI.  SCENES  AT  THE  CAMP 137 

XII.  ILL-LUCK 157 

XIII.  HUNTING  INDIANS 165 

XIV.  THE  OGILLALLAH  VILLAGE 189 

XV.  THE  HUNTING  CAMP 212 

XVI.  THE  TRAPPERS 0  237 

XVII.  THE  BLACK  HILLS 247 

XVTII.  A  MOUNTAIN  HUNT 251 

XIX.  PASSAGE  OF  THE  MOUNTAINS 264 

XX.  THE  LONELY  JOURNEY 280 

XXI.  THE  PUEBLO  AND  BENT'S  FORT    .  301 


XIV  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PA6X 

XXII.  TETE  ROUGE,  THE  VOLUNTEER 809 

XXIII.  INDIAN  ALARMS 815 

XXIV.  THE  CHASE 327 

XXV.  THE  BUFFALO  CAMP 337 

XXVI.  DOWN  THE  ARKANSAS 354 

XXVII.  THE  SETTLEMENTS 372 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

BY    FREDERIC    REMINGTON. 


PAGE 
THE  WAR  WHOOP Frontispiece 

THE  GUIDE 10 

"OLD  SMOKE"      ,     .    -    , 88 

THE  TRAPPER.  .     .     158 


THE  OREGON  TRAIL. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  FRONTIER. 

LAST  spring,  1846,  was  a  busy  season  in  the  city  of 
St.  Louis.  Not  only  were  emigrants  from  every 
part  of  the  country  preparing  for  the  journey  to  Oregon 
and  California,  but  an  unusual  number  of  traders  were 
making  ready  their  wagons  and  outfits  for  Santa  Fe\ 
The  hotels  were  crowded,  and  the  gunsmiths  and  sad- 
dlers were  kept  constantly  at  work  in  providing  arms  and 
equipments  for  the  different  parties  of  travellers.  Steam- 
boats were  leaving  the  levee  and  passing  up  the  Missouri, 
crowded  with  passengers  on  their  way  to  the  frontier. 

In  one  of  these,  the  "  Radnor,"  since  snagged  and  lost, 
my  friend  and  relative,  Quincy  Adams  Shaw,  and  myself, 
left  St.  Louis  on  the  28th  of  April,  on  a  tour  of  curiosity 
and  amusement  to  the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  boat  was 
loaded  until  the  water  broke  alternately  over  her  guards. 
Her  upper-deck  was  covered  with  large  wagons  of  a  pe- 
culiar form,  for  the  Santa  F£  trade,  and  her  hold  was 
crammed  with  goods  for  the  same  destination.  There 
were  also  the  equipments  and  provisions  of  a  party  of 
Oregon  emigrants,  a  band  of  mules  and  horses,  piles  of 
saddles  and  harness,  and  a  multitude  of  nondescript 
articles,  indispensable  on  the  prairies.  Almost  hidden 

"  1 


A  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

in  this  medley  was  a  small  French  cart,  of  the  sort  very 
appropriately  called  a  "  mule-killer,"  beyond  the  frontiers, 
and  not  far  distant  a  tent,  together  with  a  miscellaneous 
assortment  of  boxes  and  barrels.  The  whole  equipage 
was  far  from  prepossessing  in  its  appearance  ;  yet,  such 
as  it  was,  it  was  destined  to  a  long  and  arduous  journey 
on  which  the  persevering  reader  will  accompany  it. 

The  passengers  on  board  the  "  Radnor  "  corresponded 
with  her  freight.  In  her  cabin  were  Santa  FC*  traders, 
gamblers,  speculators,  and  adventurers  of  various  de- 
scriptions, and  her  steerage  was  crowded  with  Oregon 
emigrants,  "mountain  men,"  negroes,  and  a  party  of 
Kanzas  Indians,  who  had  been  on  a  visit  to  St.  Louis. 

Thus  laden,  the  boat  struggled  upward  for  seven  or 
eight  days  against  the  rapid  current  of  the  Missouri, 
grating  upon  snags,  and  hanging  for  two  or  three  hours 
at  a  time  upon  sand-bars.  We  entered  the  mouth  of  the 
Missouri  in  a  drizzling  rain,  but  the  weather  soon  became 
clear,  and  showed  distinctly  the  broad  and  turbid  river, 
with  its  eddies,  its  sand-bars,  its  ragged  islands  and  forest 
covered  shores.  The  Missouri  is  constantly  changing  its 
course ;  wearing  away  its  banks  on  one  side,  while  it 
forms  new  ones  on  the  other.  Its  channel  is  continually 
shifting.  Islands  are  formed,  and  then  washed  away, 
and  while  the  old  forests  on  one  side  are  undermined 
and  swept  off,  a  young  growth  springs  up  from  the  new 
soil  upon  the  other.  With  all  these  changes,  the  water 
is  so  charged  with  mud  and  sand  that,  in  spring,  it  is 
perfectly  opaque,  and  in  a  few  minutes  deposits  a  sedi- 
ment an  inch  thick  in  the  bottom  of  a  tumbler.  The 
river  was  now  high ;  but  when  we  descended  in  the  au- 
tumn it  was  fallen  very  low,  and  all  the  secrets  of  its 
treacherous  shallows  were  exposed  to  view.  It  was  fright- 
ful to  see  the  dead  and  broken  trees,  thick-set  as  a  mili- 


THE   FRONTIER.  3 

tary  abattis,  firmly  imbedded  in  the  sand,  and  all  pointing 
down  stream,  ready  to  impale  any  unhappy  steamboat 
that  at  high  water  should  pass  over  them. 

In  five  or  six  days  we  began  to  see  signs  of  the  great 
western  movement  that  was  taking  place.  Parties  of 
emigrants,  with  their  tents  and  wagons,  were  encamped 
on  open  spots  near  the  bank,  on  their  way  to  the  common 
rendezvous  at  Independence.  On  a  rainy  day,  near  sun- 
set, we  reached  the  landing  of  this  place,  which  is  some 
miles  from  the  river,  on  the  extreme  frontier  of  Missouri. 
The  scene  was  characteristic,  for  here  were  represented 
at  one  view  the  most  remarkable  features  of  this  wild  and 
enterprising  region.  On  the  muddy  shore  stood  some 
thirty  or  forty  dark  slavish-looking  Spaniards,  gazing 
stupidly  out  from  beneath  their  broad  hats.  They  were 
attached  to  one  of  the  Santa  F6*  companies,  whose  wagons 
were  crowded  together  on  the  banks  above.  In  the  midst 
of  these,  crouching  over  a  smouldering  fire,  was  a  group 
of  Indians,  belonging  to  a  remote  Mexican  tribe.  One  or 
two  French  hunters  from  the  mountains,  with  their  long 
hair  and  buckskin  dresses,  were  looking  at  the  boat;  and 
seated  on  a  log  close  at  hand  were  three  men,  with  rifles 
lying  across  their  knees.  The  foremost  of  these,  a  tall, 
strong  figure,  with  a  clear  blue  eye  and  an  open,  intelli- 
gent face,  might  very  well  represent  that  race  of  restless 
and  intrepid  pioneers  whose  axes  and  rifles  have  opened 
a  path  from  the  Alleghanies  to  the  western  prairies.  He 
was  on  his  way  to  Oregon,  probably  a  more  congenial 
field  to  him  than  any  that  now  remained  on  this  side  of 
the  great  plains. 

Early  on  the  next  morning  we  reached  Kanzas,  about 
five  hundred  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  Missouri.  Here 
we  landed,  and  leaving  our  equipments  in  charge  of  Colo- 
nel Chick,  whose  log-house  was  the  substitute  for  a  tav- 


4  THE    OREGON"   TRAIL. 

ern,  we  set  out  in  a  wagon  for  Westport,  where  we  hoped 
to  procure  mules  and  horses  for  the  journey. 

It  was  a  remarkably  fresh  and  beautiful  May  morning. 
The  woods,  through  which  the  miserable  road  conducted 
us,  were  lighted  by  the  bright  sunshine  and  enlivened  by 
a  multitude  of  birds.  We  overtook  on  the  way  our  late 
fellow-travellers,  the  Kanzas  Indians,  who,  adorned  with 
all  their  finery,  were  proceeding  homeward  at  a  round 
pace ;  and  whatever  they  might  have  seemed  on  board 
the  boat,  they  made  a  very  striking  and  picturesque  feat- 
ure in  the  forest  landscape. 

Westport  was  full  of  Indians,  whose  little  shaggy 
ponies  were  tied  by  dozens  along  the  houses  and  fences. 
Sacs  and  Foxes,  with  shaved  heads  and  painted  faces, 
Shawanoes  and  Dela wares,  fluttering  in  calico  frocks  and 
turbans,  Wyandots  dressed  like  white  men,  and  a  few 
wretched  Kanzas  wrapped  in  old  blankets,  were  strolling 
about  the  streets,  or  lounging  in  and  out  of  the  shops  and 
houses. 

As  I  stood  at  the  door  of  the  tavern,  I  saw  a  remark- 
able-looking personage  coming  up  the  street.  He  had  a 
ruddy  face,  garnished  with  the  stumps  of  a  bristly  red 
beard  and  moustache;  on  one  side  of  his  head  was  a 
round  cap  with  a  knob  at  the  top,  such  as  Scottish  labor- 
ers sometimes  wear ;  his  coat  was  of  a  nondescript  form, 
and  made  of  a  gray  Scotch  plaid,  with  the  fringes  hang- 
ing all  about  it ;  he  wore  trousers  of  coarse  homespun, 
and  hob-nailed  shoes;  and  to  complete  his  equipment,  a 
little  black  pipe  was  stuck  in  one  corner  of  his  mouth.  In 

this  curious  attire,  I  recognized  Captain  C ,  of  the 

British  army,  who,  with  his  brother,  and  Mr.  R ,  an 

English  gentleman,  was  bound  on  a  hunting  expedition 
across  the  continent.  I  had  seen  the  captain  and  his 
companions  at  St.  Louis.  They  had  now  been  for  some 


THE    FRONTIER.  5 

time  at  Westport,  making  preparations  for  their  depart- 
ure, and  waiting  for  a  reinforcement,  since  they  were 
too  few  in  number  to  attempt  it  alone.  They  might,  it 
is  true,  have  joined  some  of  the  parties  of  emigrants  who 
were  on  the  point  of  setting  out  for  Oregon  and  Cali- 
fornia; but  they  professed  great  disinclination  to  have 
any  connection  with  the  "  Kentucky  fellows." 

The  captain  now  urged  it  upon  us,  that  we  should  join 
forces  and  proceed  to  the  mountains  in  company.  Feel- 
ing no  greater  partiality  for  the  society  of  the  emigrants 
than  they  did,  we  thought  the  arrangement  a  good  one, 
and  consented  to  it.  Our  future  fellow-travellers  had 
installed  themselves  in  a  little  log-house,  where  we  found 
them  surrounded  by  saddles,  harness,  guns,  pistols,  tele- 
scopes, knives,  and  in  short  their  complete  appointments 
for  the  prairie.  R ,  who  had  a  taste  for  natural  his- 
tory, sat  at  a  table  stuffing  a  woodpecker ;  the  brother  of 
the  captain,  who  was  an  Irishman,  was  splicing  a  trail-rope 
on  the  floor.  The  captain  pointed  out,  with  much  com- 
placency, the  different  articles  of  their  outfit.  "  You  see," 
said  he,  "  that  we  are  all  old  travellers.  I  am  convinced 
that  no  party  ever  went  upon  the  prairie  better  provided." 
The  hunter  whom  they  had  employed,  a  surly-looking 
Canadian,  named  Sorel,  and  their  muleteer,  an  American 
ruffian  from  St.  Louis,  were  lounging  about  the  building. 
In  a  little  log  stable  close  at  hand  were  their  horses  and 
mules,  selected  with  excellent  judgment  by  the  captain. 

We  left  them  to  complete  their  arrangements,  while  we 
pushed  our  own  to  all  convenient  speed.  The  emigrants, 
for  whom  our  friends  professed  such  contempt,  were 
encamped  on  the  prairie  about  eight  or  ten  miles  distant, 
to  the  number  of  a  thousand  or  more,  and  new  parties 
were  constantly  passing  out  from  Independence  to  join 
them.  They  were  in  great  confusion,  holding  meetings, 


6  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

passing  resolutions,  and  drawing  up  regulations,  but 
unable  to  unite  in  the  choice  of  leaders  to'conduct  them 
across  the  prairie.  Being  at  leisure  one  day,  I  rode  over 
to  Independence.  The  town  was  crowded.  A  multitude 
of  shops  had  sprung  up  to  furnish  the  emigrants  and 
Santa  FC*  traders  with  necessaries  for  their  journey ;  and 
there  was  an  incessant  hammering  and  banging  from  a 
dozen  blacksmiths'  sheds,  where  the  heavy  wagons  were 
being  repaired,  and  the  horses  and  oxen  shod.  The 
streets  were  thronged  with  men,  horses,  and  mules. 
While  I  was  in  the  town,  a  train  of  emigrant  wagons 
from  Illinois  passed  through,  to  join  the  camp  on  the 
prairie,  and  stopped  in  the  principal  street.  A  multi- 
tude of  healthy  children's  faces  were  peeping  out  from 
under  the  covers  of  the  wagons.  Here  and  there  a 
buxom  damsel  was  seated  on  horseback,  holding  over  her 
sunburnt  face  an  old  umbrella  or  a  parasol,  once  gaudy 
enough,  but  now  miserably  faded.  The  men,  very  sober- 
looking  countrymen,  stood  about  their  oxen  ;  and  as  I 
passed  I  noticed  three  old  fellows,  who,  with  their  long 
whips  in  their  hands,  were  zealously  discussing  the  doc- 
trine of  regeneration.  The  emigrants,  however,  are  not 
all  of  this  stamp.  Among  them  are  some  of  the  vilest 
outcasts  in  the  country.  I  have  often  perplexed  myself 
to  divine  the  various  motives  that  give  impulse  to  this 
migration ;  but  whatever  they  may  be,  whether  an  insane 
hope  of  a  better  condition  in  life,  or  a  desire  of  shaking 
off  restraints  of  law  and  society,  or  mere  restlessness, 
certain  it  is,  that  multitudes  bitterly  repent  the  journey, 
and,  after  they  have  reached  the  land  of  promise,  are 
happy  enough  to  escape  from  it. 

In  the  course  of  seven  or  eight  days  we  had  brought 
our  preparations  nearly  to  a  close.  Meanwhile  our  friends 
had  completed  theirs,  and,  becoming  tired  of  Westport, 


THE    FRONTIER.  7 

they  told  us  that  they  would  set  out  in  advance,  and  wait 
at  the  crossing  of  the  Kanzas  till  we  should  come  up. 

Accordingly  R and  the  muleteer  went  forward  with 

the  wagon  and  tent,  while  the  captain  and  his  brother, 
together  with  Sorel,  and  a  trapper  named  Boisverd,  who 
had  joined  them,  followed  with  the  band  of  horses.  The 
commencement  of  the  journey  was  ominous,  for  the  cap- 
tain was  scarcely  a  mile  from  Westport,  riding  along  in 
state  at  the  head  of  his  party,  leading  his  intended  buffalo 
horse  by  a  rope,  when  a  tremendous  thunder-storm  came 
on  and  drenched  them  all  to  the  skin.  They  hurried  on  to 

reach  the  place,  about  seven  miles  off,  where  R was 

to  have  had  the  camp  in  readiness  to  receive  them.  But 
this  prudent  person,  when  he  saw  the  storm  approaching, 
had  selected  a  sheltered  glade  in  the  woods  where  he 
pitched  his  tent,  and  was  sipping  a  comfortable  cup  of 
coffee  while  the  captain  galloped  for  miles  beyond  through 
the  rain  to  look  for  him.  At  length  the  storm  cleared 
away,  and  the  sharp-eyed  trapper  succeeded  in  discovering 

his  tent ;  R had  by  this  time  finished  his  coffee,  and 

was  seated  on  a  buffalo-robe  smoking  his  pipe.  The  cap- 
tain was  one  of  the  most  easy-tempered  men  in  existence, 
so  he  bore  his  ill-luck  with  great  composure,  shared  the 
dregs  of  the  coffee  with  his  brother,  and  lay  down  to 
sleep  in  his  wet  clothes. 

We  ourselves  had  our  share  of  the  deluge.  We  were 
leading  a  pair  of  mules  to  Kanzas  when  the  storm  broke. 
Such  sharp  and  incessant  flashes  of  lightning,  such  stun- 
ning and  continuous  thunder  I  had  never  known  before. 
The  woods  were  completely  obscured  by  the  diagonal 
sheets  of  rain  that  fell  with  a  heavy  roar,  and  rose  in 
spray  from  the  ground,  and  the  streams  swelled  so  rapidly 
that  we  could  hardly  ford  them.  At  length,  looming 
through  the  rain,  we  saw  the  log-house  of  Colonel  Chick, 


b  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

who  received  us  with  his  usual  bland  hospitality  ;  while 
his  wife,  who,  though  a  little  soured  and  stiffened  by  a 
long  course  of  camp-meetings,  was  not  behind  him  in 
good-will,  supplied  us  with  the  means  of  bettering  our 
drenched  and  bedraggled  condition.  The  storm  clearing 
away  at  about  sunset  opened  a  noble  prospect  from  the 
porch  of  the  colonel's  house,  which  stands  upon  a  high 
hill.  The  sun  streamed  from  the  breaking  clouds  upon 
the  swift  and  angry  Missouri,  and  on  the  vast  expanse  of 
forest  that  stretched  from  its  banks  back  to  the  distant 
bluffs. 

Returning  on  the  next  day  to  Westport  we  received  a 
message  from  the  captain,  who  had  ridden  back  to  deliver 
it  in  person,  but  finding  that  we  were  in  Kanzas,  had 
intrusted  it  with  an  acquaintance  of  his  named  Vogel, 
who  kept  a  small  grocery  and  liquor  shop.  Whiskey,  by 
the  way,  circulates  more  freely  in  Westport  than  is  alto- 
gether safe  in  a  place  where  every  man  carries  a  loaded 
pistol  in  his  pocket.  As  we  passed  this  establishment 
we  saw  Vogel's  broad  German  face  thrust  from  his  door. 
He  said  he  had  something  to  tell  us,  and  invited  us  to 
take  a  dram.  Neither  his  liquor  nor  his  message  were 
very  palatable.  The  captain  had  returned  to  give  us 

notice  that  R ,  who  assumed  the  direction  of  his  party, 

had  determined  upon  another  route  from  that  agreed 
upon  between  us ;  and  instead  of  taking  the  course  of 
the  traders,  had  resolved  to  pass  northward  by  Fort 
Leavenworth,  and  follow  the  path  marked  out  by  the 
dragoons  in  their  expedition  of  last  summer.  To  adopt 
such  a  plan  without  consulting  us,  we  looked  upon  as  a 
high-handed  proceeding ;  but  suppressing  our  dissatisfac- 
tion as  well  as  we  could,  we  made  up  our  minds  to  join 
them  at  Fort  Leavenworth,  where  they  were  to  wait 
for  us. 


THE    FRONTIER.  9 

Accordingly,  our  preparation  being  now  complete,  we 
attempted  one  fine  morning  to  begin  our  journey.  The 
first  step  was  an  unfortunate  one.  No  sooner  were  our 
animals  put  in  harness  than  the  shaft-mule  reared  and 
plunged,  burst  ropes  and  straps,  and  nearly  flung  the  cart 
into  the  Missouri.  Finding  her  wholly  uncontrollable,  we 
exchanged  her  for  another,  with  which  we  were  furnished 
by  our  friend  Mr.  Boone,  of  Westport,  a  grandson  of 
Daniel  Boone,  the  pioneer.  This  foretaste  of  prairie 
experience  was  very  soon  followed  by  another.  Westport 
was  scarcely  out  of  sight  when  we  encountered  a  deep 
muddy  gully,  of  a  species  that  afterward  became  but  too 
familiar  to  us,  and  here  for  the  space  of  an  hour  or  more 
the  cart  stuck  fast. 


CHAPTER  II. 

BREAKING  THE  ICE. 

EMERGING  from  the  mud-holes  of  Westport,  we  pur- 
sued our  way  for  some  time  along  the  narrow  track, 
in  the  checkered  sunshine  and  shadow  of  the  woods,  till 
at  length,  issuing  into  the  broad  light,  we  left  behind  us 
the  farthest  outskirts  of  the  great  forest,  that  once  spread 
from  the  western  plains  to  the  shore  of  the  Atlantic. 
Looking  over  an  intervening  belt  of  bushes,  we  saw 
the  green,  ocean-like  expanse  of  prairie,  stretching  swell 
beyond  swell  to  the  horizon. 

It  was  a  mild,  calm  spring  day;  a  day  when  one  is 
more  disposed  to  musing  and  reverie  than  to  action,  and 
the  softest  part  of  his  nature  is  apt  to  gain  the  upper 
hand.  I  rode  in  advance  of  the  party,  as  we  passed 
through  the  bushes,  and,  as  a  nook  of  green  grass 
offered  a  strong  temptation,  I  dismounted  and  lay  down 
there.  All  the  trees  and  saplings  were  in  flower,  or  bud- 
ding into  fresh  leaf ;  the  red  clusters  of  the  maple-blos- 
soms and  the  rich  flowers  of  the  Indian  apple  were  there 
in  profusion ;  and  I  was  half  inclined  to  regret  leaving 
behind  the  land  of  gardens,  for  the  rude  and  stern  scenes 
of  the  prairie  and  the  mountains. 

Meanwhile  the  party  came  in  sight  out  of  the  bushes. 
Foremost  rode  Henry  Chatillon,  our  guide  and  hunter, 
a  fino  athletic  figure,  mounted  on  a  hardy  gray  Wyandot 
pony.  He  wore  a  white  blanket-coat,  a  broad  hat  of  felt, 


THE   GUIDE. 


BREAKING   THE    ICE.  11 

moccasins,  and  trousers  of  deer-skin,  ornamented  along 
the  seams  with  rows  of  long  fringes.  His  knife  was  stuck 
in  his  belt ;  his  bullet-pouch  and  powder-horn  hung  at  his 
side,  and  his  rifle  lay  before  him,  resting  against  the  high 
pommel  of  his  saddle,  which,  like  all  his  equipments,  had 
seen  hard  service,  and  was  much  the  worse  for  wear. 
Shaw  followed  close,  mounted  on  a  little  sorrel  horse, 
and  leading  a  larger  animal  by  a  rope.  His  outfit,  which 
resembled  mine,  had  been  provided  with  a  view  to  use 
rather  than  ornament.  It  consisted  of  a  plain,  black 
Spanish  saddle,  with  holsters  of  heavy  pistols,  a  blanket 
rolled  up  behind,  and  the  trail-rope  attached  to  his  horse's 
neck  hanging  coiled  in  front.  He  carried  a  double-bar- 
relled smooth-bore,  while  I  had  a  rifle  of  some  fifteen 
pounds  weight.  At  that  time  our  attire,  though  far  from 
elegant,  bore  some  marks  of  civilization,  and  offered  a 
very  favorable  contrast  to  the  inimitable  shabbiness  of 
our  appearance  on  the  return  journey.  A  red  flannel 
shirt,  belted  around  the  waist  like  a  frock,  then  consti- 
tuted our  upper  garment ;  moccasins  had  supplanted  our 
failing  boots  ;  and  the  remaining  essential  portion  of  our 
attire  consisted  of  an  extraordinary  article,  manufactured 
by  a  squaw  out  of  smoked  buckskin.  Our  muleteer,  Des- 
lauriers,  brought  up  the  rear  with  his  cart,  wading  ankle- 
deep  in  the  mud,  alternately  puffing  at  his  pipe,  and  ejac- 
ulating in  his  prairie  patois,  "  Sacre  enfant  de  garce  ! " 
as  one  of  the  mules  would  seem  to  recoil  before  some 
abyss  of  unusual  profundity.  The  cart  was  of  the  kind 
that  one  may  see  by  scores  around  the  market-place  at 
Quebec,  and  had  a  white  covering  to  protect  the  articles 
within.  These  were  our  provisions  and  a  tent,  with 
ammunition,  blankets,  and  presents  for  the  Indians. 

We  were  in  all  four  men  with  eight  animals ;  for  be- 
sides the  spare  horses  led  by  Shaw  and  myself,  an  addi- 


12  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

tional  mule  was  driven  along  with  us  as  a  reserve  in 
case  of  accident. 

After  this  summing  up  of  our  forces,  it  may  not  be 
amiss  to  glance  at  the  characters  of  the  two  men  who 
accompanied  us. 

Deslauriers  was  a  Canadian,  with  all  the  characteristics 
of  the  true  Jean  Baptiste.   Neither  fatigue,  exposure,  nor 
hard  labor  could  ever  impair  his  cheerfulness  and  gayety, 
or  his  politeness  to  his  bourgeois  ;  and  when  night  came, 
he  would  sit  down  by  the  fire,  smoke  his  pipe,  and  tell 
stories  with  the  utmost  contentment.     The  prairie  was 
his  element.     Henry  Chatillon  was  of  a  different  stamp. 
When  we  were  at  St.  Louis,  several  gentlemen  of  the 
Fur  Company  had  kindly  offered  to  procure  for  us  a 
hunter  and  guide  suited  for  our  purposes,  and  on  coming 
one  afternoon  to  the  office,  we  found  there  a  tall  and 
exceedingly  well-dressed  man,  with  a  face  so  open  and 
frank  that  it  attracted  our  notice  at  once.     We  were 
surprised  at  being  told  that  it  was  he  who  wished  to  guide 
us  to  the  mountains.     He  was  born  in  a  little  French 
town  near  St.  Louis,  and  from  the  age  of  fifteen  years  had 
been  constantly  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, employed  for  the  most  part  by  the  company,  to  sup- 
ply their  forts  with  buffalo  meat.     As  a  hunter,  he  had 
but  one  rival  in  the  whole  region,  a  man  named  Simoneau, 
with  whom,  to  the  honor  of  both  of  them,  he  was  on 
terms  of  the  closest  friendship.     He  had  arrived  at  St. 
Louis  the  day  before,  from  the  mountains,  where  he  had 
been  for  four  years  ;  and  he  now  asked  only  to  go  and 
spend  a  day  with  his  mother,  before  setting  out  on  an- 
other expedition.     His  age  was  about  thirty ;  he  was  six 
feet  high,  and  very  powerfully  and  gracefully  moulded. 
The  prairies  had  been  his  school ;  he  could  neither  read 
nor  write,  but  he  had  a  natural  refinement  and  delicacy 


BREAKING  THE   ICE.  13 

of  mind,  such  as  is  rare  even  in  women.  His  manly  face 
was  a  mirror  of  uprightness,  simplicity,  and  kindness  of 
heart ;  he  had,  moreover,  a  keen  perception  of  character, 
and  a  tact  that  would  preserve  him  from  flagrant  error  in 
any  society.  Henry  had  not  the  restless  energy  of  an 
Anglo-American.  He  was  content  to  take  things  as  he 
found  them ;  and  his  chief  fault  arose  from  an  excess  of 
easy  generosity,  not  conducive  to  thriving  in  the  world. 
Yet  it  was  commonly  remarked  of  him,  that  whatever 
he  might  choose  to  do  with  what  belonged  to  himself,  the 
property  of  others  was  always  safe  in  his  hands.  His 
bravery  was  as  much  celebrated  in  the  mountains  as  his 
skill  in  hunting ;  but  it  is  characteristic  of  him  that 
in  a  country  where  the  rifle  is  the  chief  arbiter  between 
man  and  man,  he  was  very  seldom  involved  in  quar- 
rels. Once  or  twice,  indeed,  his  quiet  good  nature  had 
been  mistaken  and  presumed  upon,  but  the  consequences 
of  the  error  were  such,  that  no  one  was  ever  known  to 
repeat  it.  No  better  evidence  of  the  intrepidity  of  his 
temper  could  be  asked,  than  the  common  report  that  he 
had  killed  more  than  thirty  grizzly  bears.  He  was  a 
proof  of  what  unaided  nature  will  sometimes  do.  I  have 
never,  in  the  city  or  in  the  wilderness,  met  a  better  man 
than  my  true-hearted  friend,  Henry  Chatillon. 

We  were  soon  free  of  the  woods  and  bushes,  and  fairly 
upon  the  broad  prairie.  Now  and  then  a  Shawanoe 
passed  us,  riding  his  little  shaggy  pony  at  a  "  lope ; "  his 
calico  shirt,  his  gaudy  sash,  and  the  gay  handkerchief 
bound  around  his  snaky  hair,  fluttering  in  the  wind.  At 
noon  we  stopped  to  rest  not  far  from  a  little  creek,  replete 
with  frogs  and  young  turtles.  There  had  been  an  Indian 
encampment  at  the  place,  and  the  framework  of  the 
lodges  still  remained,  enabling  us  very  easily  to  gain  a 
shelter  from  the  sun,  by  merely  spreading  one  or  two 


14  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

blankets  over  them.  Thus  shaded,  we  sat  upon  our  sad- 
dles, and  Shaw  for  the  first  time  lighted  his  favorite 
Indian  pipe ;  while  Deslauriers  was  squatted  over  a  hot 
bed  of  coals,  shading  his  eyes  with  one  hand,  and  hold- 
ing a  little  stick  in  the  other,  with  which  he  regulated 
the  hissing  contents  of  the  frying-pan.  The  horses  were 
turned  to  feed  among  the  scattered  bushes  of  a  low  oozy 
meadow.  A  drowsy  spring-like  sultriness  pervaded  the 
air,  and  the  voices  of  ten  thousand  young  frogs  and 
insects,  just  awakened  into  life,  rose  in  varied  chorus 
from  the  creek  and  the  meadows. 

Scarcely  were  we  seated  when  a  visitor  approached. 
This  was  an  old  Kanzas  Indian ;  a  man  of  distinction,  if 
one  might  judge  from  his  dress.  His  head  was  shaved 
and  painted  red,  arid  from  the  tuft  of  hair  remaining  on 
the  crown  dangled  several  eagle's  feathers,  and  the  tails 
cf  two  or  three  rattlesnakes.  His  cheeks,  too,  were 
daubed  with  vermilion;  his  ears  were  adorned  with 
green  glass  pendants;  a  collar  of  grizzly  bears'  claws 
surrounded  his  neck,  and  several  large  necklaces  of  wam- 
pum hung  on  his  breast.  Having  shaken  us  by  the  hand 
with  a  grunt  of  salutation,  the  old  man,  dropping  his  red 
blanket  from  his  shoulders,  sat  down  cross-legged  on  the 
ground.  We  offered  him  a  cup  of  sweetened  water,  at 
which  he  ejaculated  "  Good !  "  and  was  beginning  to  tell 
us  how  great  a  man  he  was,  and  how  many  Pawnees  he 
had  killed,  when  suddenly  a  motley  concourse  appeared 
wading  across  the  creek  towards  us.  They  filed  past  in 
rapid  succession,  men,  women  and  children :  some  were 
on  horseback,  some  on  foot,  but  all  were  alike  squalid 
and  wretched.  Old  squaws,  mounted  astride  of  shaggy, 
meagre  little  ponies,  with  perhaps  one  or  two  snake-eyed 
children  seated  behind  them,  clinging  to  their  tattered 
blankets ;  tall  lank  young  men  on  foot,  with  bows  and 


BREAKING   THE   ICE.  15 

arrows  in  their  hands ;  and  girls  whose  native  ugliness 
not  all  the  charms  of  glass  beads  and  scarlet  cloth  could 
disguise,  made  up  the  procession;  although  here  and 
there  was  a  man  who,  like  our  visitor,  seemed  to  hold 
some  rank  in  this  respectable  community.  They  were 
the  dregs  of  the  Kanzas  nation,  who,  while  their  betters 
were  gone  to  hunt  the  buffalo,  had  left  the  village  on  a 
begging  expedition  to  Westport. 

When  this  ragamuffin  horde  had  passed,  we  caught 
our  horses,  saddled,  harnessed,  and  resumed  our  journey. 
Fording  the  creek,  the  low  roofs  of  a  number  of  rude 
buildings  appeared,  rising  from  a  cluster  of  groves  and 
woods  on  the  left ;  and  riding  up  through  a  long  lane 
amid  a  profusion  of  wild  roses  and  early  spring  flowers, 
we  found  the  log-church  and  school-houses  belonging  to 
the  Methodist  Shawanoe  Mission.  The  Indians  were  on 
the  point  of  gathering  to  a  religious  meeting.  Some 
scores  of  them,  tall  men  in  half-civilized  dress,  were 
seated  on  wooden  benches  under  the  trees ;  while  their 
horses  were  tied  to  the  sheds  and  fences.  Their  chief, 
Parks,  a  remarkably  large  and  athletic  man,  had  just 
arrived  from  Westport,  where  he  owns  a  trading  estab- 
lishment. Beside  this,  he  has  a  large  farm  and  a  con- 
siderable number  of  slaves.  Indeed  the  Shawanoes  have 
made  greater  progress  in  agriculture  than  any  other  tribe 
on  the  Missouri  frontier ;  and  both  in  appearance  and  in 
character  form  a  marked  contrast  to  our  late  acquaint- 
ance, the  Kanzas. 

A  few  hours'  ride  brought  us  to  the  banks  of  the  river 
Kanzas.  Traversing  the  woods  that  lined  it,  and  plough- 
ing through  the  deep  sand,  we  encamped  not  far  from  the 
bank,  at  the  Lower  Delaware  crossing.  Our  tent  was 
erected  for  the  first  time,  on  a  meadow  close  to  the  woods, 
and  the  camp  preparations  being  complete,  we  began  to 


16  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

think  of  supper.  An  old  Delaware  woman,  of  some  three 
hundred  pounds  weight,  sat  in  the  porch  of  a  little  log- 
house,  close  to  the  water,  and  a  very  pretty  half-breed 
girl  was  engaged,  under  her  superintendence,  in  feeding 
a  large  flock  of  turkeys  that  were  fluttering  and  gobbling 
about  the  door.  But  no  offers  of  money,  or  even  of  to- 
bacco, could  induce  her  to  part  with  one  of  her  favorites : 
BO  I  took  my  rifle,  to  see  if  the  woods  or  the  river  could 
furnish  us  any  thing.  A  multitude  of  quails  were  plain- 
tively whistling  in  the  meadows ;  but  nothing  appropriate 
to  the  rifle  was  to  be  seen,  except  three  buzzards,  seated 
on  the  spectral  limbs  of  an  old  dead  sycamore,  that  thrust 
itself  out  over  the  river  from  the  dense  sunny  wall  of  fresh 
foliage.  Their  ugly  heads  were  drawn  down  between 
their  shoulders,  and  they  seemed  to  luxuriate  in  the  soft 
sunshine  that  was  pouring  from  the  west.  As  they  offered 
no  epicurean  temptations,  I  refrained  from  disturbing 
their  enjoyment;  but  contented  myself  with  admiring 
the  calm  beauty  of  the  sunset,  —  for  the  river,  eddying 
swiftly  in  deep  purple  shadows  between  the  impending 
woods,  formed  a  wild  but  tranquillizing  scene. 

When  I  returned  to  the  camp,  I  found  Shaw  and  an 
old  Indian  seated  on  the  ground  in  close  conference,  pass- 
ing the  pipe  between  them.  The  old  man  was  explain- 
ing that  he  loved  the  whites,  and  had  an  especial  partiality 
for  tobacco.  Deslauriers  was  arranging  upon  the  ground 
our  service  of  tin  cups  and  plates ;  and  as  other  viands 
were  not  to  be  had,  he  set  before  us  a  repast  of  biscuit 
and  bacon,  and  a  large  pot  of  coffee.  Unsheathing  our 
knives,  we  attacked  it,  disposed  of  the  greater  part, 
and  tossed  the  residue  to  the  Indian.  Meanwhile  our 
horses,  now  hobbled  for  the  first  time,  stood  among  the 
trees,  with  their  fore-legs  tied  together,  in  great  disgust 
and  astonishment.  They  seemed  by  no  means  to  relish 


BREAKING   THE   ICE.  17 

this  foretaste  of  what  awaited  them.  Mine,  in  partic- 
ular, had  conceived  a  mortal  aversion  to  the  prairie  life. 
One  of  them,  christened  Hendrick,  an  animal  whose 
strength  and  hardihood  were  his  only  merits,  and  who 
yielded  to  nothing  but  the  cogent  arguments  of  the  whip, 
looked  toward  us  with  an  indignant  countenance,  as  if 
he  meditated  avenging  his  wrongs  with  a  kick.  The 
other,  Pontiac,  a  good  horse,  though  of  plebeian  lineage, 
stood  with  his  head  drooping  and  his  mane  hanging  about 
his  eyes,  with  the  grieved  and  sulky  air  of  a  lubberly 
boy  sent  off  to  school.  His  forebodings  were  but  too 
just ;  for  when  I  last  heard  from  him,  he  was  under  the 
lash  of  an  Ogillallah  brave,  on  a  war  party  against  the 
Crows. 

As  it  grew  dark  and  the  voices  of  the  whippoorwills 
succeeded  the  whistle  of  the  quails,  we  removed  our 
saddles  to  the  tent  to  serve  as  pillows,  spread  our  blankets 
upon  the  ground,  and  prepared  to  bivouac  for  the  first 
time  that  season.  Each  man  selected  the  place  in  the 
tent  which  he  was  to  occupy  for  the  journey.  To 
Deslauriers,  however,  was  assigned  the  cart  into  which 
he  could  creep  in  wet  weather,  and  find  a  much  better 
shelter  than  his  bourgeois  enjoyed  in  the  tent. 

The  river  Kanzas  at  this  point  forms  the  boundary  line 
between  the  country  of  the  Shawanoes  and  that  of  the 
Dela wares.  We  crossed  it  on  the  following  day,  rafting 
over  our  horses  and  equipments  with  much  difficulty,  and 
unlading  our  cart  in  order  to  make  our  way  up  the  steep 
ascent  on  the  farther  bank.  It  was  a  Sunday  morning ; 
warm,  tranquil  and  bright ;  and  a  perfect  stillness  reigned 
over  the  rough  inclosures  and  neglected  fields  of  the 
Delawares,  except  the  ceaseless  hum  and  chirruping  of 
myriads  of  insects.  Now  and  then  an  Indian  rode  past 
on  his  way  to  the  meeting-house,  or,  through  the  dilapi- 


18  THE   OREGON   TKAIL. 

dated  entrance  of  some  shattered  log-house,  an  old  woman 
might  be  discerned  enjoying  all  the  luxury  of  idleness. 
There  was  no  village  bell,  for  the  Delawares  have  none ; 
and  yet  upon  that  forlorn  and  rude  settlement  was  the 
same  spirit  of  Sabbath  repose  and  tranquillity  as  in  some 
New  England  village  among  the  mountains  of  New 
Hampshire,  or  the  Vermont  woods. 

A  military  road  led  from  this  point  to  Fort  Leaven- 
worth,  and  for  many  miles  the  farms  and  cabins  of  the 
Delawares  were  scattered  at  short  intervals  on  either 
hand.  The  little  rude  structures  of  logs  erected  usually 
on  the  borders  of  a  tract  of  woods  made  a  picturesque 
feature  in  the  landscape.  But  the  scenery  needed  no 
foreign  aid.  Nature  had  done  enough  for  it ;  and  the 
alternation  of  rich  green  prairies  and  groves  that  stood 
in  clusters,  or  lined  the  banks  of  the  numerous  little 
streams,  had  all  the  softened  and  polished  beauty  of  a 
region  that  has  been  for  centuries  under  the  hand  of 
man.  At  that  early  season,  too,  it  was  in  the  height  of 
its  freshness.  The  woods  were  flushed  with  the  red  buds 
of  the  maple ;  there  were  frequent  flowering  shrubs  un- 
known in  the  east ;  and  the  green  swells  of  the  prairie 
were  thickly  studded  with  blossoms. 

Encamping  near  a  spring,  by  the  side  of  a  hill,  we 
resumed  our  journey  in  the  morning,  and  early  in  the 
afternoon  were  within  a  few  miles  of  Fort  Leavenworth. 
The  road  crossed  a  stream  densely  bordered  with  trees, 
and  running  in  the  bottom  of  a  deep  woody  hollow.  We 
were  about  to  descend  into  it  when  a  wild  and  confused 
procession  appeared,  passing  through  the  water  below, 
and  coming  up  the  steep  ascent  towards  us.  We  stopped 
to  let  them  pass.  They  were  Delawares,  just  returned 
from  a  hunting  expedition.  All,  both  men  and  women, 
were  mounted  on  horseback,  and  drove  along  with  them 


BREAKING   THE   ICE.  19 

a  considerable  number  of  pack-mules,  laden  with  the  furs 
they  had  taken,  together  with  the  buffalo-robes,  kettles, 
and  other  articles  of  their  travelling  equipment,  which, 
as  well  as  their  clothing  and  their  weapons,  had  a  worn 
and  dingy  look,  as  if  they  had  seen  hard  service  of  late. 
At  the  rear  of  the  party  was  an  old  man,  who,  as  he 
came  up,  stopped  his  horse  to  speak  to  us.  He  rode  a 
tough  shaggy  pony,  with  mane  and  tail  well  knotted  with 
burs,  and  a  rusty  Spanish  bit  in  its  mouth,  to  which,  by 
way  of  reins,  was  attached  a  string  of  raw  hide.  His 
saddle,  robbed  probably  from  a  Mexican,  had  no  covering, 
being  merely  a  tree  of  the  Spanish  form,  with  a  piece  of 
grizzly  bear's  skin  laid  over  it,  a  pair  of  rude  wooden  stir- 
rups attached,  and,  in  the  absence  of  girth,  a  thong  of 
hide  passing  around  the  horse's  belly.  The  rider's  dark 
features  and  keen  snaky  eye  were  unequivocally  Indian. 
He  wore  a  buckskin  frock,  which,  like  his  fringed  leg- 
gings, was  well  polished  and  blackened  by  grease  and 
long  service,  and  an  old  handkerchief  was  tied  around 
his  head.  Resting  on  the  saddle  before  him  lay  his  rifle, 
a  weapon  in  the  use  of  which  the  Delawares  are  skilful, 
though,  from  its  weight,  the  distant  prairie  Indians  are 
too  lazy  to  carry  it. 

"  Who's  your  chief?"  he  immediately  inquired. 

Henry  Chatillon  pointed  to  us.  The  old  Delaware 
fixed  his  eyes  intently  upon  us  for  a  moment,  and  then 
sententiously  remarked,  — 

"  No  good !  Too  young ! "  With  this  flattering  com- 
ment he  left  us  and  rode  after  his  people. 

This  tribe,  the  Delawares,  once  the  peaceful  allies  of 
William  Penn,  the  tributaries  of  the  conquering  Iroquois, 
are  now  the  most  adventurous  and  dreaded  warriors  upon 
the  prairies.  They  make  war  upon  remote  tribes,  the 
very  names  of  which  were  unknown  to  their  fathers  in 


20  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

their  ancient  seats  in  Pennsylvania,  and  they  push  these 
new  quarrels  with  true  Indian  rancor,  sending  out  their 
war-parties  as  far  as  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  into  the 
Mexican  territories.  Their  neighbors  and  former  confed- 
erates, the  Shawanoes,  who  are  tolerable  farmers,  are  in 
a  prosperous  condition  ;  but  the  Delawares  dwindle  every 
year,  from  the  number  of  men  lost  in  their  warlike 
expeditions. 

Soon  after  leaving  this  party  we  saw,  stretching  on  the 
right,  the  forests  that  follow  the  course  of  the  Missouri, 
and  the  deep  woody  channel  through  which  at  this  point 
it  runs.  At  a  distance  in  front  were  the  white  barracks 
of  Fort  Leaven  worth,  just  visible  through  the  trees  upon 
an  eminence  above  a  bend  of  the  river.  A  wide  green 
meadow,  as  level  as  a  lake,  lay  between  us  and  the  Mis- 
souri, and  upon  this,  close  to  a  line  of  trees  that  bordered 
a  little  brook,  stood  the  tent  of  the  Captain  and  his  com- 
panions, with  their  horses  feeding  around  it ;  but  they 
themselves  were  invisible.  Wright,  their  muleteer,  was 
there,  seated  on  the  tongue  of  the  wagon,  repairing  his 
harness.  Boisverd  stood  cleaning  his  rifle  at  the  door  of 
the  tent,  and  Sorel  lounged  idly  about.  On  closer  exam- 
ination, however,  we  discovered  the  Captain's  brother, 
Jack,  sitting  in  the  tent,  at  his  old  occupation  of  splicing 
trail-ropes.  He  welcomed  us  in  his  broad  Irish  brogue, 
and  said  that  his  brother  was  fishing  in  the  river,  and 
R gone  to  the  garrison.  They  returned  before  sun- 
set. Meanwhile  we  pitched  our  own  tent  not  far  off,  and 
after  supper  a  council  was  held,  in  which  it  was  resolved 
to  remain  one  day  at  Fort  Leaven  worth,  and  on  the  next 
to  bid  a  final  adieu  to  the  frontier,  or,  in  the  phraseology 
of  the  region,  to  "jump  off."  Our  deliberations  were 
conducted  by  the  ruddy  light  from  a  distant  swell  of  the 
prairie  where  the  long  dry  grass  of  last  summer  was  on 
fire. 


CHAPTER  III. 

FORT  LBATENWOETH. 

ON  the  next  morning  we  rode  to  Fort  Leavenworth. 
Colonel,  now  General  Kearney,  to  whom  I  had  had 
the  honor  of  an  introduction  when  at  St.  Louis,  was  just 
arrived,  and  received  us  at  his  quarters  with  the  courtesy 
habitual  to  him.  Fort  Leavenworth  is  in  fact  no  fort, 
being  without  defensive  works,  except  two  block-houses. 
No  rumors  of  war  had  as  yet  disturbed  its  tranquillity. 
In  the  square  grassy  area,  surrounded  by  barracks  and 
the  quarters  of  the  officers,  the  men  were  passing  and 
repassing,  or  lounging  among  the  trees ;  although  not 
many  weeks  afterwards  it  presented  a  different  scene ; 
for  here  the  offscourings  of  the  frontier  were  congregated 
for  the  expedition  against  Santa  Fe*. 

Passing  through  the  garrison,  we  rode  toward  the 
Kickapoo  village,  five  or  six  miles  beyond.  The  path,  a 
rather  dubious  and  uncertain  one,  led  us  along  the  ridge 
of  high  bluffs  that  border  the  Missouri ;  and,  by  looking 
to  the  right  or  to  the  left,  we  could  enjoy  a  strange  con- 
trast of  scenery.  On  the  left  stretched  the  prairie,  rising 
into  swells  and  undulations  thickly  sprinkled  with  groves, 
or  gracefully  expanding  into  wide  grassy  basins,  of  miles 
in  extent ;  while  its  curvatures,  swelling  against  the  hori- 
zon, were  often  surmounted  by  lines  of  sunny  woods  ;  a 
scene  to  which  the  freshness  of  the  season  and  the  peculiar 
mellowness  of  the  atmosphere  gave  additional  softness. 


22  THE    OREGON    TRAIL, 

Below  us,  on  the  right,  was  a  tract  of  ragged  and  broken 
woods.  We  could  look  down  on  the  tops  of  the  trees, 
some  living  and  some  dead ;  some  erect,  others  leaning 
at  every  angle,  and  others  piled  in  masses  together  by 
the  passage  of  a  hurricane.  Beyond  their  extreme  verge 
the  turbid  waters  of  the  Missouri  were  discernible 
through  the  boughs,  rolling  powerfully  along  at  the  foot 
of  the  woody  declivities  on  its  farther  bank. 

The  path  soon  after  led  inland  ;  and,  as  we  crossed  an 
open  meadow,  we  saw  a  cluster  of  buildings  on  a  rising 
ground  before  us,  with  a  crowd  of  people  surrounding 
them.  They  were  the  storehouse,  cottage,  and  stables  of 
the  Kickapoo  trader's  establishment.  Just  at  that  mo- 
ment, as  it  chanced,  he  was  beset  with  half  the  Indians 
of  the  settlement.  They  had  tied  their  wretched,  neg- 
lected little  ponies  by  dozens  along  the  fences  and  out- 
houses, and  were  either  lounging  about  the  place,  or 
crowding  into  the  trading-house.  Here  were  faces  of 
various  colors :  red,  green,  white,  and  black,  curiously 
intermingled  and  disposed  over  the  visage  in  a  variety  of 
patterns.  Calico  shirts,  red  and  blue  blankets,  brass 
ear-rings,  wampum  necklaces,  appeared  in  profusion. 
The  trader  was  a  blue-eyed,  open-faced  man,  who  neither 
in  his  manners  nor  his  appearance  betrayed  any  of  the 
roughness  of  the  frontier ;  though  just  at  present  he  was 
obliged  to  keep  a  lynx  eye  on  Ins  customers,  who,  men 
and  women,  were  climbing  on  his  counter,  and  seating 
themselves  among  his  boxes  and  bales. 

The  village  itself  was  not  far  off,  and  sufficiently  illus- 
trated the  condition  of  its  unfortunate  and  self -abandoned 
occupants.  Fancy  to  yourself  a  little  swift  stream,  work- 
ing its  devious  way  down  a  woody  valley ;  sometimes 
wholly  hidden  under  logs  and  fallen  trees,  sometimes 
spreading  into  a  broad,  clear  pool ;  and  on  its  banks,  in 


FOKT   LEAVENWORTH.  23 

little  nooks  cleared  away  among  the  trees,  miniature  log- 
houses,  in  utter  ruin  and  neglect.  A  labyrinth  of  narrow, 
obstructed  paths  connected  these  habitations  one  with  an- 
other. Sometimes  we  met  a  stray  calf,  a  pig,  or  a  pony, 
belonging  to  some  of  the  villagers,  who  usually  lay  in 
the  sun  in  front  of  their  dwellings,  and  looked  on  us  with 
cold,  suspicious  eyes  as  we  approached.  Farther  on,  in 
place  of  the  log-huts  of  the  Kickapoos,  we  found  the 
pukwi  lodges  of  their  neighbors,  the  Pottawattamies, 
whose  condition  seemed  no  better  than  theirs. 

Growing  tired  at  last,  and  exhausted  by  the  excessive 
heat  and  sultriness  of  the  day,  we  returned  to  our  friend, 
the  trader.  By  this  time  the  crowd  around  him  had  dis- 
persed, and  left  him  at  leisure.  He  invited  us  to  his 
cottage,  a  little  white-and-green  building,  in  the  style  of 
the  old  French  settlements ;  and  ushered  us  into  a  neat, 
well-furnished  room.  The  blinds  were  closed,  and  the 
heat  and  glare  of  the  sun  excluded ;  the  room  was  as 
cool  as  a  cavern.  It  was  neatly  carpeted,  too,  and  fur- 
nished in  a  manner  that  we  hardly  expected  on  the  fron- 
tier. The  sofas,  chairs,  tables,  and  a  well-filled  bookcase, 
would  not  have  disgraced  an  eastern  city;  though  there 
were  one  or  two  little  tokens  that  indicated  the  rather 
questionable  civilization  of  the  region.  A  pistol,  loaded 
and  capped,  lay  on  the  mantel-piece ;  and  through  the 
glass  of  the  bookcase,  peeping  above  the  works  of  John 
Milton,  glittered  the  handle  of  a  very  mischievous-look- 
ing knife. 

Our  host  went  out,  and  returned  with  iced  water, 
glasses,  and  a  bottle  of  excellent  claret,  —  a  refreshment 
most  welcome  in  the  extreme  heat  of  the  day ;  and  soon 
after  appeared  a  merry,  laughing  woman,  who  must  have 
been,  a  year  or  two  before,  a  very  rich  specimen  of  Creole 
beauty.  She  came  to  say  that  lunch  was  ready  in  the 


24  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

next  room.  Our  hostess  evidently  lived  on  the  sunny 
side  of  life,  and  troubled  herself  with  none  of  its  cares. 
She  sat  down  and  entertained  us  while  we  were  at  table 
with  anecdotes  of  fishing-parties,  frolics,  and  the  officers 
at  the  fort.  Taking  leave  at  length  of  the  hospitable 
trader  and  his  friend,  we  rode  back  to  the  garrison. 

Shaw  passed  on  to  the  camp,  while  I  remained  to  call 
upon  Colonel  Kearney.  I  found  him  still  at  table.  There 
sat  our  friend  the  Captain,  in  the  same  remarkable  habili- 
ments in  which  we  saw  him  at  Westport ;  the  black  pipe, 
however,  being  for  the  present  laid  aside.  He  dangled 
his  little  cap  in  his  hand,  and  talked  of  steeple-chases, 
touching  occasionally  upon  his  anticipated  exploits  in 

buffalo-hunting.    There,  too,  was  R ,  somewhat  more 

elegantly  attired.  For  the  last  time,  we  tasted  the  luxu- 
ries of  civilization,  and  drank  adieus  to  it  in  wine  good 
enough  to  make  us  regret  the  leave-taking.  Then, 
mounting,  we  rode  together  to  the  camp,  where  every 
thing  wag  in  readiness  for  departure  on  the  morrow. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"JUMPING  OFF." 

OUR  transatlantic  companions  were  well  equipped 
for  the  journey.  They  had  a  wagon  drawn  by 
six  mules,  and  crammed  with  provisions  for  six  months, 
besides  ammunition  enough  for  a  regiment ;  spare  rifles 
and  fowling-pieces,  ropes  and  harness,  personal  baggage, 
and  a  miscellaneous  assortment  of  articles,  which  pro- 
duced infinite  embarrassment.  They  had  also  decorated 
their  persons  with  telescopes  and  portable  compasses, 
and  carried  English  double-barrelled  rifles  of  sixteen 
to  the  pound  calibre,  slung  to  their  saddles  in  dragoon 
fashion. 

By  sunrise  on  the  twenty-third  of  May  we  had  break- 
fasted ;  the  tents  were  levelled,  the  animals  saddled  and 
harnessed,  and  all  was  prepared.  "  Avance  done!  get 
up !  "  cried  Deslauriers  to  his  mule.  Wright,  our  friends' 
muleteer,  after  some  swearing  and  lashing,  got  his  insub- 
ordinate train  in  motion,  and  then  the  whole  party  filed 
from  the  ground.  Thus  we  bade  a  long  adieu  to  bed  and 
board,  and  the  principles  of  Blackstone's  Commentaries. 
The  day  was  a  most  auspicious  one ;  and  yet  Shaw  and  I 
felt  certain  misgivings,  which  in  the  sequel  proved  but 
too  well  founded.  We  had  just  learned  that  though 
R had  taken  it  upon  him  to  adopt  this  course  with- 
out consulting  us,  not  a  single  man  in  the  party  knew  the 
way ;  and  the  absurdity  of  the  proceeding  soon  became 


26  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

manifest.  His  plan  was  to  strike  the  trail  of  several 
companies  of  dragoons,  who  last  summer  had  made  an 
expedition  under  Colonel  Kearney  to  Fort  Laramie,  and 
by  this  means  to  reach  the  grand  trail  of  the  Oregon 
emigrants  up  the  Platte. 

We  rode  for  an  hour  or  two,  when  a  familiar  cluster  of 
buildings  appeared  on  a  little  hill.  "  Hallo  !  "  shouted 
the  Kickapoo  trader  from  over  his  fence,  "  where  are  you 
going?"  A  few  rather  emphatic  exclamations  might 
have  been  heard  among  us,  when  we  found  that  we  had 
gone  miles  out  of  our  way,  and  were  not  advanced  an 
inch  toward  the  Rocky  Mountains.  So  we  turned  in  the 
direction  the  trader  indicated ;  and  with  the  sun  for  a 
guide,  began  to  trace  a  "  bee-line  "  across  the  prairies. 
We  struggled  through  copses  and  lines  of  wood;  we 
waded  brooks  and  pools  of  water;  we  traversed  prairies 
as  green  as  an  emerald,  expanding  before  us  mile  after 
mile,  wider  and  more  wild  than  the  wastes  Mazeppa 

rode  over. 

"  Man  nor  brute, 

Nor  dint  of  hoof,  nor  print  of  foot, 
Lay  in  the  wild  luxuriant  soil ; 
No  sign  of  travel;  none  of  toil; 
The  very  air  was  mute." 

Riding  in  advance,  as  we  passed  over  one  of  these 
great  plains,  we  looked  back  and  saw  the  line  of  scattered 
horsemen  stretching  for  a  mile  or  more  ;  and,  far  in  the 
rear,  against  the  horizon,  the  white  wagons  creeping 
slowly  along.  "  Here  we  are  at  last !  "  shouted  the  Cap- 
tain. And,  in  truth,  we  had  struck  upon  the  traces  of  a 
large  body  of  horse.  We  turned  joyfully  and  followed 
this  new  course,  with  tempers  somewhat  improved ;  and 
towards  sunset  encamped  on  a  high  swell  of  the  prairie, 
at  the  foot  of  which  a  lazy  stream  soaked  along  through 
clumps  of  rank  grass.  It  was  getting  dark.  We  turned 


"JUMPING  OFF."  27 

cne  horses  loose  to  feed.  "  Drive  down  the  tent-pickets 
hard,"  said  Henry  Chatillon,  "  it  is  going  to  blow."  We 
did  so,  and  secured  the  tent  as  well  as  we  could ;  for  the 
sky  had  changed  totally,  and  a  fresh  damp  smell  in  the 
wind  warned  us  that  a  stormy  night  was  likely  to  succeed 
the  hot,  clear  day.  The  prairie  also  wore  a  new  aspect, 
and  its  vast  swells  had  grown  black  and  sombre  under 
the  shadow  of  the  clouds.  The  thunder  soon  began  to 
growl  at  a  distance.  Picketing  and  hobbling  the  horses 
among  the  rich  grass  at  the  foot  of  the  slope  where  we 
encamped,  we  gained  a  shelter  just  as  the  rain  began  to 
fall ;  and  sat  at  the  opening  of  the  tent,  watching  the 
proceedings  of  the  Captain.  In  defiance  of  the  rain,  he 
was  stalking  among  the  horses,  wrapped  in  an  old  Scotch 
plaid.  An  extreme  solicitude  tormented  him,  lest  some 
of  his  favorites  should  escape,  or  some  accident  should 
befall  them ;  and  he  cast  an  anxious  eye  towards  three 
wolves  who  were  sneaking  along  over  the  dreary  surface 
of  the  plain,  as  if  he  dreaded  some  hostile  demonstration 
on  their  part. 

On  the  next  morning  we  had  gone  but  a  mile  or  two 
when  we  came  to  an  extensive  belt  of  woods,  through 
the  midst  of  which  ran  a  stream,  wide,  deep,  and  of  an 
appearance  particularly  muddy  and  treacherous.  Deslau- 
riers  was  in  advance  with  his  cart ;  he  jerked  his  pipe 
from  his  mouth,  lashed  his  mules  and  poured  forth  a 
volley  of  Canadian  ejaculations.  In  plunged  the  cart, 
but  midway  it  stuck  fast.  He  leaped  out  knee-deep  in 
water,  and,  by  dint  of  sacres  and  a  vigorous  application 
of  the  whip,  urged  the  mules  out  of  the  slough.  Then 
approached  the  long  team  and  heavy  wagon  of  our  friends ; 
but  it  paused  on  the  brink. 

"  Now  my  advice  is,"  —  began  the  Captain,  who  had 
been  anxiously  contemplating  the  muddy  gulf. 


28  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

"  Drive  on ! "  cried  R . 

But  Wright,  the  muleteer,  apparently  had  not  as  yet 
decided  the  point  in  his  own  mind ;  and  he  sat  still  in 
his  seat,  on  one  of  the  shaft-mules,  whistling  in  a  low 
contemplative  strain  to  himself. 

"  My  advice  is,"  resumed  the  Captain,  "  that  we  un- 
load ;  for  I'll  bet  any  man  five  pounds  that  if  we  try  to 
go  through  we  shall  stick  fast." 

"  By  the  powers,  we  shall  stick  fast ! "  echoed  Jack, 
the  Captain's  brother,  shaking  his  large  head  with  an  air 
of  firm  conviction. 

"  Drive  on !  drive  on ! "  cried  R ,  petulantly. 

"  Well,"  observed  the  Captain,  turning  to  us  as  we  sat 
looking  on,  much  edified  by  this  by-play  among  our  con- 
federates, "  I  can  only  give  my  advice,  and  if  people  won't 
be  reasonable,  why  they  won't,  that's  all !  " 

Meanwhile  Wright  had  apparently  made  up  his  mind ; 
for  he  suddenly  began  to  shout  forth  a  volley  of  oaths 
and  curses,  that,  compared  with  the  French  imprecations 
of  Deslauriers,  sounded  like  the  roaring  of  heavy  cannon 
after  the  popping  and  sputtering  of  a  bunch  of  Chinese 
crackers.  At  the  same  time  he  discharged  a  shower  of 
blows  upon  his  mules,  who  hastily  dived  into  the  mud, 
and  drew  the  wagon  lumbering  after  them.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  issue  was  doubtful.  Wright  writhed  about  in 
his  saddle,  and  swore  and  lashed  like  a  madman ;  but  who 
can  count  on  a  team  of  half-broken  mules  ?  At  the  most 
critical  point,  when  all  should  have  been  harmony  and 
combined  effort,  the  perverse  brutes  fell  into  disorder, 
and  huddled  together  in  confusion  on  the  farther  bank. 
There  was  the  wagon  up  to  the  hub  in  mud,  and  visibly 
settling  every  instant.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
unload ;  then  to  dig  away  the  mud  from  before  the  wheels 
with  a  spade,  and  lay  a  causeway  of  bushes  and  branches. 


"  JUMPING   OFF."  29 

This  agreeable  labor  accomplished,  the  wagon  at  length 
emerged ;  but  as  some  interruption  of  this  sort  occurred 
at  least  four  or  five  times  a  day  for  a  fortnight,  our 
progress  towards  the  Platte  was  not  without  its 
obstacles. 

We  travelled  six  or  seven  miles  farther,  and  "  nooned  " 
near  a  brook.  On  the  point  of  resuming  our  journey, 
when  the  horses  were  all  driven  down  to  water,  my  home- 
sick charger,  Pontiac,  made  a  sudden  leap  across,  and  set 
off  at  a  round  trot  for  the  settlements.  I  mounted  my 
remaining  horse  and  started  in  pursuit.  Making  a  cir- 
cuit, I  headed  the  runaway,  hoping  to  drive  him  back  to 
camp,  but  he  instantly  broke  into  a  gallop,  made  a  wide 
tour  on  the  prairie,  and  got  by  me  again.  I  tried  this 
plan  repeatedly  with  the  same  result ;  Pontiac  was  evi- 
dently disgusted  with  the  prairie,  so  I  abandoned  it  and 
tried  another,  trotting  along  gently  behind  him,  in  hopes 
that  I  might  quietly  get  near  enough  to  seize  the  trail- 
rope  which  was  fastened  to  his  neck,  and  dragged  about 
a  dozen  feet  behind  him.  The  chase  grew  interesting. 
For  mile  after  mile  I  followed  the  rascal  with  the  utmost 
care  not  to  alarm  him,  and  gradually  got  nearer,  until  at 
length  old  Hendrick's  nose  was  fairly  brushed  by  the 
whisking  tail  of  the  unsuspecting  .Pontiac.  "Without 
drawing  rein  I  slid  softly  to  the  ground;  but  my  long 
heavy  rifle  encumbered  me,  and  the  low  sound  it  made  in 
striking  the  horn  of  the  saddle  startled  him,  he  pricked 
up  his  ears  and  sprang  off  at  a  run.  "My  friend," 
thought  I,  remounting,  "  do  that  again  and  I  will  shoot 
you  I" 

Fort  Leavenworth  was  about  forty  miles  distant,  and 
thither  I  determined  to  follow  him.  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  spend  a  solitary  and  supperless  night,  and  then  set  out 
again  in  the  morning.  One  hope,  however,  remained, 


30  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

The  creek  where  the  wagon  had  stuck  was  just  before 
us ;  Pontiac  might  be  thirsty  with  his  run  and  stop  there 
to  drink.  I  kept  as  near  him  as  possible,  taking  every 
precaution  not  to  alarm  him  again ;  and  the  result  proved 
as  I  had  hoped,  for  he  walked  deliberately  among  the 
trees  and  stooped  down  to  the  water.  I  alighted,  dragged 
old  Hendrick  through  the  mud,  and  with  a  feeling  of 
infinite  satisfaction  picked  up  the  slimy  trail-rope,  and 
twisted  it  three  times  round  my  hand.  "  Now  let  me  see 
you  get  away  again !  "  I  thought,  as  I  remounted.  But 
Pontiac  was  exceedingly  reluctant  to  turn  back ;  Hen- 
drick, too,  who  had  evidently  flattered  himself  with  vain 
hopes,  showed  the  utmost  repugnance,  and  grumbled  in 
a  manner  peculiar  to  himself  at  being  compelled  to  face 
about.  A  smart  cut  of  the  whip  restore4  his  cheerful- 
ness ;  and,  dragging  the  recovered  truant  behind,  I  set  out 
in  search  of  the  camp.  An  hour  or  two  elapsed,  when, 
near  sunset,  I  saw  the  tents,  standing  on  a  swell  of  the 
prairie,  beyond  a  line  of  woods,  while  the  bands  of  horses 
were  feeding  in  a  low  meadow  close  at  hand.  There  sat 

Jack  C ,  cross-legged,  in  the  sun,  splicing  a  trail-rope ; 

and  the  rest  were  lying  on  the  grass,  smoking  and  telling 
stories.  That  night  we  enjoyed  a  serenade  from  the 
wolves,  more  lively  than  any  with  which  they  had  yet 
favored  us ;  and  in  the  morning  one  of  the  musicians 
appeared,  not  many  rods  from  the  tents,  quietly  seated 
among  the  horses,  looking  at  us  with  a  pair  of  large  gray 
eyes ;  but  perceiving  a  rifle  levelled  at  him,  he  leaped 
up  and  made  off  in  hot  haste. 

I  pass  by  the  following  day  or  two  of  our  journey,  for 
nothing  occurred  worthy  of  record.  Should  any  one  of 
my  readers  ever  be  impelled  to  visit  the  prairies,  and 
should  he  choose  the  route  of  the  Platte  ( the  best,  per- 
haps, that  can  be  adopted),  I  can  assure  him  that  he 


"JUMPING   OFF."  31 

need  not  think  to  enter  at  once  upon  the  paradise  of  his 
imagination.  A  dreary  preliminary,  a  protracted  crossing 
of  the  threshold,  awaits  him  before  he  finds  himself  fairly 
upon  the  verge  of  the  "  great  American  desert,"  —  those 
barren  wastes,  the  haunts  of  the  buffalo  and  the  Indian, 
where  the  very  shadow  of  civilization  lies  a  hundred 
leagues  behind  him.  The  intervening  country,  the  wide 
and  fertile  belt  that  extends  for  several  hundred  miles 
beyond  the  extreme  frontier,  will  probably  answer  toler- 
ably well  to  his  preconceived  ideas  of  the  prairie ;  for 
this  it  is  from  which  picturesque  tourists,  painters,  poets, 
and  novelists,  who  have  seldom  penetrated  farther,  have 
derived  their  conceptions  of  the  whole  region.  If  he  has 
a  painter's  eye,  he  may  find  his  period  of  probation  not 
wholly  void  of  interest.  The  scenery,  though  tame,  is 
graceful  and  pleasing.  Here  are  level  plains,  too  wide 
for  the  eye  to  measure ;  green  undulations,  like  motion- 
less swells  of  the  ocean  ;  abundance  of  streams,  followed 
through  all  their  windings  by  lines  of  woods  and  scattered 
groves.  But  let  him  be  as  enthusiastic  as  he  may,  he 
will  find  enough  to  damp  his  ardor.  His  wagons  will 
stick  in  the  mud ;  his  horses  will  break  loose ;  harness 
will  give  way ;  and  axle-trees  prove  unsound.  His  bed 
will  be  a  soft  one,  consisting  often  of  black  mud  of  the 
richest  consistency.  As  for  food,  he  must  content  him- 
self with  biscuit  and  salt  provisions ;  for,  strange  as  it  may 
seem,  this  tract  of  country  produces  very  little  game.  As 
he  advances,  indeed,  he  will  see,  mouldering  in  the  grass 
by  his  path,  the  vast  antlers  of  the  elk,  and  farther  on 
the  whitened  skulls  of  the  buffalo,  once  swarming  over 
this  now  deserted  region.  Perhaps,  like  us,  he  may  jour- 
ney for  a  fortnight,  and  see  not  so  much  as  the  hoof-print 
of  a  deer ;  in  the  spring,  not  even  a  prairie-hen  is  to  be 
had. 


32  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

Yet,  to  compensate  him  for  this  unlooked-for  deficiency 
of  game,  he  will  find  himself  beset  with  "  varmints  "  innu- 
merable. The  wolves  will  entertain  him  with  a  concert 
at  night,  and  skulk  around  him  by  day,  just  beyond  rifle- 
shot ;  his  horse  will  step  into  badger-holes ;  from  every 
marsh  and  mud-puddle  will  arise  the  bellowing,  croaking, 
and  trilling  of  legions  of  frogs,  infinitely  various  in  color, 
shape,  and  dimensions.  A  profusion  of  snakes  will  glide 
away  from  under  his  horse's  feet,  or  quietly  visit  him  in 
his  tent  at  night ;  while  the  pertinacious  humming  of  un- 
numbered mosquitoes  will  banish  sleep  from  his  eyelids. 
When  thirsty  with  a  long  ride  in  the  scorching  sun  over 
some  boundless  reach  of  prairie,  he  comes  at  length  to  a 
pool  of  water,  and  alights  to  drink,  he  discovers  a  troop 
of  young  tadpoles  sporting  in  the  bottom  of  his  cup.  Add 
to  this,  that,  all  the  morning,  the  sun  beats  upon  him  with 
a  sultry,  penetrating  heat,  and  that,  with  provoking  regu- 
larity, at  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  a  thunder- 
storm rises  and  drenches  him  to  the  skin. 

One  day,  after  a  protracted  morning's  ride,  we  stopped 
to  rest  at  noon  upon  the  open  prairie.  No  trees  were  in 
sight;  but  close  at  hand  a  little  dribbling  brook  was 
twisting  from  side  to  side  through  a  hollow  ;  now  forming 
holes  of  stagnant  water,  and  now  gliding  over  the  mud  in 
a  scarcely  perceptible  current,  among  a  growth  of  sickly 
bushes,  and  great  clumps  of  tall  rank  grass.  The  day 
was  excessively  hot  and  oppressive .  The  horses  and  mules 
were  rolling  on  the  prairie  to  refresh  themselves,  or  feed- 
ing among  the  bushes  in  the  hollow.  We  had  dined ;  and 
Deslauriers,  puffing  at  his  pipe,  knelt  on  the  grass,  scrub- 
bing our  service  of  tin-plate.  Shaw  lay  in  the  shade, 
under  the  cart,  to  rest  for  awhile,  before  the  word  should 
be  given  to  "catch  up."  Henry  Chatillon,  before  lying 
down,  was  looking  about  for  signs  of  snakes,  the  only  liv- 


"  JUMPING   OFF."  33 

mg  things  that  he  feared,  and  uttering  various  ejaculations 
of  disgust  at  finding  several  suspicious-looking  holes 
close  to  the  cart.  I  sat  leaning  against  the  wheel  in  a 
scanty  strip  of  shade,  making  a  pair  of  hobbles  to  replace 
those  which  my  contumacious  steed  Pontiac  had  broken 
the  night  before.  The  camp  of  our  friends,  a  rod  or  two 
distant,  presented  the  same  scene  of  lazy  tranquillity. 

"  Hallo !  "  cried  Henry,  looking  up  from  his  inspection 
of  the  snake-holes,  "  here  comes  the  old  Captain." 

The  Captain  approached,  and  stood  for  a  moment  con- 
templating us  in  silence. 

"  I  say,  Parkman,"  he  began,  "  look  at  Shaw  there, 
asleep  under  the  cart,  with  the  tar  dripping  off  the  hub  of 
the  wheel  on  his  shoulder." 

At  this  Shaw  got  up,  with  his  eyes  half  opened,  and 
feeling  the  part  indicated,  found  his  hand  glued  fast  to  his 
red  flannel  shirt. 

"  He'll  look  well,  when  he  gets  among  the  squaws, 
won't  he  ?  "  observed  the  Captain,  with  a  grin. 

He  then  crawled  under  the  cart,  and  began  to  tell 
stories,  of  which  his  stock  was  inexhaustible.  Yet  every 
moment  he  would  glance  nervously  at  the  horses.  At 
last  he  jumped  up  in  great  excitement.  "  See  that  horse! 
There  —  that  fellow  just  walking  over  the  hill !  By  Jove ! 
he's  off.  It's  your  big  horse,  Shaw ;  no  it  isn't,  it's  Jack's. 
Jack !  Jack  !  hallo,  Jack  !  "  Jack,  thus  invoked,  jumped 
up  and  stared  vacantly  at  us. 

"  Go  and  catch  your  horse,  if  you  don't  want  to  lose 
him,"  roared  the  Captain. 

Jack  instantly  set  off  at  a  run  through  the  grass,  his 
broad  trousers  flapping  about  his  feet.  The  Captain 
gazed  anxiously  till  he  saw  that  the  horse  was  caught ; 
then  he  sat  down,  with  a  countenance  of  thoughtfulness 
and  care. 


34  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,"  he  said,  "  this  will  never  do  at 
all.  We  shall  lose  every  horse  in  the  band  some  day  or 
other,  and  then  a  pretty  plight  we  should  be  in !  Now  I 
am  convinced  that  the  only  way  for  us  is  to  have  every 
man  in  the  camp  stand  horse-guard  in  rotation  whenever 
we  stop.  Supposing  a  hundred  Pawnees  should  jump  up 
1  out  of  that  ravine,  all  yelling  and  flapping  their  buffalo 
robes,  in  the  way  they  do  !  Why,  in  two  minutes,  not  a 
hoof  would  be  in  sight."  We  reminded  the  Captain  that 
a  hundred  Pawnees  would  probably  demolish  the  horse- 
guard  if  he  were  to  resist  their  depredations. 

"  At  any  rate,"  pursued  the  Captain,  evading  the  point, 
"  our  whole  system  is  wrong  ;  Fm  convinced  of  it ;  it  is 
totally  unmilitary.  Why,  the  way  we  travel,  strung  out 
over  the  prairie  for  a  mile,  an  enemy  might  attack  the 
foremost  men,  and  cut  them  off  before  the  rest  could 
come  up." 

"  We  are  not  in  an  enemy's  country  yet,"  said  Shaw ; 
"  when  we  are,  we'll  travel  together." 

"  Then,"  said  the  Captain,  "  we  might  be  attacked  in 
camp.  We've  no  sentinel ;  we  'camp  in  disorder ;  no 
precautions  at  all  to  guard  against  surprise.  My  own 
convictions  are,  that  we  ought  to  'camp  in  a  hollow- 
square,  with  the  fires  in  the  centre  ;  and  have  sentinels, 
and  a  regular  password  appointed  for  everjr  night.  Beside, 
there  should  be  videttes,  riding  in  advance,  to  find  a  place 
for  the  camp  and  give  warning  of  an  enemy.  These  are 
my  convictions.  I  don't  want  to  dictate  to  any  man.  I 
give  advice  to  the  best  of  my  judgment,  that's  all ;  and 
then  let  people  do  as  they  please." 

His  plan  of  sending  out  videttes  seemed  particularly 
dear  to  him ;  and  as  no  one  else  was  disposed  to  second 
his  views  on  this  point,  he  took  it  into  his  head  to  ride 
forward  that  afternoon  himself. 


"JUMPING  OFF."  35 

"  Come,  Parkman,"  said  he,  "  will  you  go  with  me  ?  " 

We  set  out  together,  and  rode  a  mile  or  two  in  advance. 
The  Captain,  in  the  course  of  twenty  years'  service  in  the 
British  army,  had  seen  something  of  life;  and  being 
naturally  a  pleasant  fellow,  he  was  a  very  entertaining 
companion.  He  cracked  jokes  and  told  stories  for  an 
hour  or  two;  until,  looking  back,  we  saw  the  prairie 
behind  us  stretching  away  to  the  horizon,  without  a 
horseman  or  a  wagon  in  sight. 

"  Now,"  said  the  Captain,  "  I  think  the  videttes  had 
better  stop  till  the  main  body  comes  up." 

I  was  of  the  same  opinion.  There  was  a  thick  growth 
of  woods  just  before  us,  with  a  stream  running  through 
them.  Having  crossed  this,  we  found  on  the  other  side 
a  level  meadow,  half  encircled  by  the  trees ;  and,  fasten- 
ing our  horses  to  some  bushes,  we  sat  down  on  the  grass, 
while,  with  an  old  stump  of  a  tree  for  a  target,  I  began 
to  display  the  superiority  of  the  renowned  rifle  of  the 
backwoods  over  the  foreign  innovation  borne  by  the  Cap- 
tain. At  length  voices  could  be  heard  in  the  distance, 
behind  the  trees. 

"  There  they  come,"  said  the  Captain ;  "  let's  go  and 
see  how  they  get  through  the  creek." 

We  mounted  and  rode  to  the  bank  of  the  stream,  where 
the  trail  crossed  it.  It  ran  in  a  deep  hollow,  full  of  trees* 
As  we  looked  down,  we  saw  a  confused  crowd  of  horse- 
men riding  through  the  water;  and  among  the  dingy 
habiliments  of  our  party  glittered  the  uniforms  of  foui 
dragoons. 

Shaw  came  whipping  his  horse  up  the  bank,  in  advance 
of  the  rest,  with  a  somewhat  indignant  countenance.  The 
first  word  he  spoke  was  a  blessing  fervently  invoked  on 

the  head  of  R ,  who  was  riding,  with  a  crest-fallen 

air,  in  the  rear.  Thanks  to  the  ingenious  devices  of  this* 


36  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

gentleman,  we  had  missed  the  track  entirely,  and  wan- 
dered, not  towards  the  Platte,  but  to  the  village  of  the 
Iowa  Indians.  This  we  learned  from  the  dragoons,  who 
had  lately  deserted  from  Fort  Leavenworth.  They  told 
us  that  our  best  plan  now  was  to  keep  to  the  northward 
until  we  should  strike  the  trail  formed  by  several  parties 
of  Oregon  emigrants,  who  had  that  season  set  out  from 
St.  Joseph,  in  Missouri. 

In  extremely  bad  temper,  we  encamped  on  this  ill 
starred  spot,  while  the  deserters,  whose  case  admitted  of 
no  delay,  rode  rapidly  forward.  On  the  day  following, 
striking  the  St.  Joseph's  trail,  we  turned  our  horses' 
heads  towards  Fort  Laramie,  then  about  seven  hundred 
miles  to  the  westward. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    "BIG    BLUE.'* 

THE  great  medley  of  Oregon  and  California  emigrants 
at  their  camps  around  Independence  had  heard  re- 
ports that  several  additional  parties  were  on  the  point  of 
setting  out  from  St.  Joseph  farther  to  the  northward. 
The  prevailing  impression  was,  that  these  were  Mormons, 
twenty-three  hundred  in  number ;  and  a  great  alarm  was 
excited  in  consequence.  The  people  of  Illinois  and  Mis- 
souri, who  composed  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  emi- 
grants, have  never  been  on  the  best  terms  with  the  "  Latter 
Day  Saints ; "  and  it  is  notorious  throughout  the  country 
how  much  blood  has  been  spilt  in  their  feuds,  even  far 
within  the  limits  of  the  settlements.  No  one  could  pre- 
dict what  would  be  the  result,  when  large  armed  bodies 
of  these  fanatics  should  encounter  the  most  impetuous 
and  reckless  of  their  old  enemies  on  the  broad  prairie, 
far  beyond  the  reach  of  law  or  military  force.  The  women 
and  children  at  Independence  raised  a  great  outcry ;  the 
men  themselves  were  seriously  alarmed ;  and,  as  I  learned, 
they  sent  to  Colonel  Kearney,  requesting  an  escort  of 
dragoons  as  far  as  the  Platte.  This  was  refused;  and, 
as  the  sequel  proved,  there  was  no  occasion  for  it.  The 
St.  Joseph  emigrants  were  as  good  Christians  and  as  zeal- 
ous  Mormon-haters  as  the  rest ;  and  the  very  few  families 
of  the  "  Saints  "  who  passed  out  this  season  by  the  route 


38  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

of  the  Platte  remained  behind  until  the  great  tide  of 
emigration  had  gone  by,  standing  in  quite  as  much  awe 
of  the  "  gentiles  "  as  the  latter  did  of  them. 

We  were  now  upon  this  St.  Joseph  trail.  It  was  evi- 
dent, by  the  traces,  that  large  parties  were  a  few  days  in 
advance  of  us ;  and  as  we  too  supposed  them  to  be  Mor- 
mons, we  had  some  apprehension  of  interruption. 

The  journey  was  monotonous.  One  day  we  rode  on 
for  hours,  without  seeing  a  tree  or  a  bush :  before,  be- 
hind, and  on  either  side,  stretched  the  vast  expanse, 
rolling  in  a  succession  of  graceful  swells,  covered  with 
the  unbroken  carpet  of  fresh  green  grass.  Here  and 
there  a  crow,  a  raven,  or  a  turkey-buzzard,  relieved  the 
uniformity. 

"  What  shall  we  do  to-night  for  wood  and  water?  "  we 
began  to  ask  of  each  other ;  for  the  sun  was  within  an 
hour  of  setting.  At  length  a  dark  green  speck  appeared, 
far  off  on  the  right :  it  was  the  top  of  a  tree,  peering 
over  a  swell  of  the  prairie ;  and,  leaving  the  trail,  we  made 
all  haste  towards  it.  It  proved  to  be  the  vanguard  of  a 
cluster  of  bushes  and  low  trees,  that  surrounded  some 
pools  of  water  in  an  extensive  hollow;  so  we  encamped 
on  the  rising  ground  near  it. 

Shaw  and  I  were  sitting  in  the  tent,  when  Deslauriers 
thrust  his  brown  face  and  old  felt  hat  into  the  opening, 
and,  dilating  his  eyes  to  their  utmost  extent,  announced 
supper.  There  were  the  tin  cups  and  the  iron  spoons, 
arranged  in  order  on  the  grass,  and  the  coffee-pot  pre- 
dominant in  the  midst.  The  meal  was  soon  dispatched, 
but  Henry  Chatillon  still  sat  cross-legged,  dallying  with 
the  remnant  of  his  coffee,  the  beverage  in  universal  use 
upon  the  prairie,  and  an  especial  favorite  with  him.  He 
preferred  it  in  its  virgin  flavor,  unimpaired  by  sugar  or 
cream;  and  on  the  present  occasion  it  met  his  entire 


THE    "BIG   BLUE."  39 

approval,  being  exceedingly  strong,  or,  as  he  expressed  it, 
"  right  black." 

It  was  a  gorgeous  sunset ;  and  the  ruddy  glow  of  the 
sky  was  reflected  from  some  extensive  pools  of  water 
among  the  shadowy  copses  in  the  meadow  below. 

"  I  must  have  a  bath  to-night,"  said  Shaw.  "  How 
is  it,  Deslauriers?  Any  chance  for  a  swim  down 
there?" 

"  Ah !  I  cannot  tell ;  just  as  you  please,  Monsieur," 
replied  Deslauriers,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  perplexed 
by  his  ignorance  of  English,  and  extremely  anxious  to 
conform  in  all  respects  to  the  opinions  and  wishes  of  his 
"bourgeois. 

"  Look  at  his  moccasin,"  said  I.  It  had  evidently  been 
lately  immersed  in  a  profound  abyss  of  black  mud. 

"  Come,"  said  Shaw ;  "at  any  rate  we  can  see  for  our- 
selves." 

We  set  out  together ;  and  as  we  approached  the  bushes, 
which  were  at  some  distance,  we  found  the  ground  becom- 
ing rather  treacherous.  We  could  only  get  along  by 
stepping  upon  large  clumps  of  tall  rank  grass,  with  fathom- 
less gulfs  between,  like  innumerable  little  quaking  islands 
in  an  ocean  of  mud,  where  a  false  step  would  have  in- 
volved our  boots  in  a  catastrophe  like  that  which  had 
befallen  Deslauriers's  moccasins.  The  thing  looked  des- 
perate ;  we  separated,  to  search  in  different  directions, 
Shaw  going  off  to  the  right,  while  I  kept  straight  for- 
ward. At  last  I  came  to  the  edge  of  the  bushes,  —  they 
were  young  water-willows,  covered  with  their  caterpillar- 
like  blossoms,  but  intervening  between  them  and  the  last 
grass  clump  was  a  black  and  deep  slough,  over  which,  by 
a  vigorous  exertion,  I  contrived  to  jump.  Then  I  shoul- 
dered my  way  through  the  willows,  trampling  them  down 
by  main  force,  till  I  came  to  a  wide  stream  of  water, 


40  THE   OREGON    TRAIL. 

three  inches  deep,  languidly  creeping  along  over  a  bottom 
of  sleek  mud.  My  arrival  produced  a  great  commotion. 
A  huge  green  bull-frog  uttered  an  indignant  croak,  and 
jumped  off  the  bank  with  a  loud  splash ;  his  webbed  feet 
twinkled  above  the  surface,  as  he  jerked  them  energeti- 
cally upward,  and  I  could  see  him  ensconcing  himself  in 
the  unresisting  slime  at  the  bottom,  whence  several  large 
air-bubbles  struggled  lazily  to  the  top.  Some  little 
spotted  frogs  followed  the  patriarch's  example ;  and  then 
three  turtles,  not  larger  than  a  dollar,  tumbled  themselves 
off  a  broad  u  lily  pad,"  where  they  had  been  reposing.  At 
the  same  time  a  snake,  gayly  striped  with  black  and  yel- 
low, glided  out  from  the  bank,  and  writhed  across  to  the 
other  side ;  and  a  small  stagnant  pool  into  which  my  foot 
had  inadvertently  pushed  a  stone  was  instantly  alive 
with  a  congregation  of  black  tadpoles. 

"  Any  chance  for  a  bath  where  you  are  ?  "  called  out 
Shaw,  from  a  distance. 

The  answer  was  not  encouraging.  I  retreated  through 
the  willows,  and  rejoining  my  companion,  we  proceeded  to 
push  our  researches  in  company.  Not  far  on  the  right,  a 
rising  ground,  covered  with  trees  and  bushes,  seemed  to 
sink  down  abruptly  to  the  water,  and  give  hope  of  better 
success ;  so  towards  this  we  directed  our  steps.  When 
we  reached  the  place  we  found  it  no  easy  matter  to  get 
along  between  the  hill  and  the  water,  impeded  as  we  were 
by  a  growth  of  stiff,  obstinate  young  birch-trees,  laced 
together  by  grape-vines.  In  the  twilight  we  now  and 
then,  to  support  ourselves,  snatched  at  the  touch-me-not 
stem  of  some  ancient  sweetbrier.  Shaw,  who  was  in  ad- 
vance, suddenly  uttered  an  emphatic  monosyllable ;  and, 
looking  up,  I  saw  him  with  one  hand  grasping  a  sapling, 
and  one  foot  immersed  in  the  water,  from  which  he  had 
forgotten  to  withdraw  it,  his  whole  attention  being  en- 


THE   "BIG  BLUE."  41 

gaged  in  contemplating  the  movements  of  a  water-snake, 
about  five  feet  long,  curiously  checkered  with  black  and 
green,  who  was  deliberately  swimming  across  the  pool. 
There  being  no  stick  or  stone  at  hand  to  pelt  him  with,  we 
looked  at  him  for  a  time  in  silent  disgust,  and  then  pushed 
forward.  Our  perseverance  was  at  last  rewarded ;  for, 
several  rods  farther  on,  we  emerged  upon  a  little  level 
grassy  nook  among  the  brushwood,  and  by  an  extraordi- 
nary dispensation  of  fortune,  the  weeds  and  floating 
sticks,  which  elsewhere  covered  the  pool,  seemed  to  have 
drawn  apart,  and  left  a  few  yards  of  clear  water  just  in 
front  of  this  favored  spot.  We  sounded  it  with  a  stick  ; 
it  was  four  feet  deep :  we  lifted  a  specimen  in  our  closed 
hands ;  it  seemed  reasonably  transparent,  so  we  decided 
that  the  time  for  action  was  arrived.  But  our  ablutions 
were  suddenly  interrupted  by  ten  thousand  punctures, 
like  poisoned  needles,  and  the  humming  of  myriads  of 
overgrown  mosquitoes,  rising  in  all  directions  from  their 
native  mud  and  swarming  to  the  feast.  We  were  fain 
to  beat  a  retreat  with  all  possible  speed. 

We  made  towards  the  tents,  much  refreshed  by  the 
bath,  which  the  heat  of  the  weather,  joined  to  our  preju- 
dices, had  rendered  very  desirable. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  the  Captain  ?  look  at  him ! " 
said  Shaw.  The  Captain  stood  alone  on  the  prairie, 
swinging  his  hat  violently  around  his  head,  and  lifting 
first  one  foot  and  then  the  other,  without  moving  from  the 
spot.  First  he  looked  down  to  the  ground  with  an  air  of 
supreme  abhorrence ;  then  he  gazed  upward  with  a  per- 
plexed and  indignant  countenance,  as  if  trying  to  trace 
the  flight  of  an  unseen  enemy.  We  called  to  know  what 
was  the  matter ;  but  he  replied  only  by  execrations  di- 
rected against  some  unknown  object.  We  approached, 
when  our  ears  were  saluted  by  a  droning  sound,  as  if 


42  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

twenty  bee-hives  had  been  overturned  at  once.  The  air 
above  was  full  of  large  black  insects,  in  a  state  of  great 
commotion,  and  multitudes  were  flying  about  just  above 
the  tops  of  the  grass-blades. 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  called  the  Captain,  observing  us 
recoil.  "  The  brutes  won't  sting." 

At  this  I  knocked  one  down  with  my  hat,  and  discovered 
him  to  be  no  other  than  a  "  dor-bug ; "  and,  looking  closer, 
we  found  the  ground  thickly  perforated  with  their  holes. 

We  took  a  hasty  leave  of  this  flourishing  colony,  and 
walking  up  the  rising  ground  to  the  tents,  found  Deslau- 
riers's  fire  still  glowing  brightly.  We  sat  down  around 
it,  and  Shaw  began  to  expatiate  on  the  admirable  facili- 
ties for  bathing  that  we  had  discovered,  recommending 
the  Captain  by  all  means  to  go  down  there  before  break- 
fast in  the  morning.  The  Captain  was  in  the  act  of  re- 
marking that  he  couldn't  have  believed  it  possible,  when 
he  suddenly  interrupted  himself,  and  clapped  his  hand  to 
his  cheek,  exclaiming  that "  those  infernal  humbugs  were 
at  him  again."  In  fact,  we  began  to  hear  sounds  as  if 
bullets  were  humming  over  our  heads.  In  a  moment 
something  rapped  me  sharply  on  the  forehead,  then  upon 
the  neck,  and  immediately  I  felt  ai*  indefinite  number  of 
sharp  wiry  claws  in  active  motion,  as  if  their  owner  were 
bent  on  pushing  his  explorations  farther.  I  seized  him, 
and  dropped  him  into  the  fire.  Our  party  speedily  broke 
up,  and  we  adjourned  to  our  respective  tents,  where,  clos- 
ing the  opening  fast,  we  hoped  to  be  exempt  from  inva- 
sion. But  all  precaution  was  fruitless.  The  dor-bugs 
hummed  through  the  tent,  and  marched  over  our  faces 
until  daylight;  when,  opening  our  blankets,  we  found 
several  dozen  clinging  there  with  the  utmost  tenacity. 
The  first  object  that  met  our  eyes  in  the  morning  was 
Deslauriers,  who  seemed  to  be  apostrophizing  his  frying- 


THE    "  BIG   BLUE."  43 

pan,  which  he  held  by  the  handle,  at  arm's  length.  It 
appeared  that  he  had  left  it  at  night  by  the  fire ;  and  the 
bottom  was  now  covered  with  dor-bugs,  firmly  imbedded. 
Hundreds  of  others,  curiously  parched  and  shrivelled, 
lay  scattered  among  the  ashes. 

The  horses  and  mules  were  turned  loose  to  feed.  "We 
had  just  taken  our  seats  at  breakfast,  or  rather  reclined  i» 
the  classic  mode,  when  an  exclamation  from  Henry  ChatiL 
Ion,  and  a  shout  of  alarm  from  the  Captain,  gave  warning 
of  some  casualty,  and  looking  up,  we  saw  the  whole  band 
of  animals,  twenty-three  in  number,  filing  off  for  the  set- 
tlements, the  incorrigible  Pontiac  at  their  head,  jumping 
along  with  hobbled  feet,  at  a  gait  much  more  rapid  than 
graceful.  Three  or  four  of  us  ran  to  cut  them  off,  dash- 
ing as  best  we  might  through  the  tall  grass,  which  was 
glittering  with  dew-drops.  After  a  race  of  a  mile  or  more, 
Shaw  caught  a  horse.  Tying  the  trail-rope  by  way  of 
bridle  round  the  animal's  jaw,  and  leaping  upon  his  back, 
he  got  in  advance  of  the  remaining  fugitives,  while  we, 
soon  bringing  them  together,  drove  them  in  a  crowd  up  to 
the  tents,  where  each  man  caught  and  saddled  his  own. 
Then  were  heard  lamentations  and  curses  ;  for  half  the 
horses  had  broke  their  hobbles,  and  many  were  seriously 
galled  by  attempting  to  run  in  fetters. 

It  was  late  that  morning  before  we  were  on  the  march; 
and  early  in  the  afternoon  we  were  compelled  to  encamp, 
for  a  thunder-gust  came  up  and  suddenly  enveloped  us  in 
whirling  sheets  of  rain.  With  much  ado  we  pitched  our 
tents  amid  the  tempest,  and  all  night  long  the  thunder 
bellowed  and  growled  over  our  heads.  In  the  morning 
light  peaceful  showers  succeeded  the  cataracts  of  rain, 
that  had  been  drenching  us  through  the  canvas  of  our 
tents.  About  noon,  when  there  were  some  treacherous 
indications  of  fair  weather,  we  got  m  motion  again. 


44  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

Not  a  breath  of  air  stirred  over  the  free  and  open  prairie ; 
the  clouds  were  like  light  piles  of  cotton ;  and  where  the 
blue  sky  was  visible,  it  wore  a  hazy  and  languid  aspect. 
The  sun  beat  down  upon  us  with  a  sultry,  penetrating 
heat  almost  insupportable,  and  as  our  party  crept  slowly 
along  over  the  interminable  level,  the  horses  hung  their 
heads  as  they  waded  fetlock  deep  through  the  mud,  and 
the  men  slouched  into  the  easiest  position  upon  the  sad- 
dle. At  last,  to  wards  evening,  the  old  familiar  black  heads 
of  thunder-clouds  rose  fast  above  the  horizon,  and  the 
same  deep  muttering  of  distant  thunder  that  had  become 
the  ordinary  accompaniment  of  our  afternoon's  journey 
began  to  roll  hoarsely  over  the  prairie.  Only  a  few  min- 
utes elapsed  before  the  whole  sky  was  densely  shrouded, 
and  the  prairie  and  some  clusters  of  woods  in  front  as- 
sumed a  purple  hue  beneath  the  inky  shadows.  Suddenly 
from  the  densest  fold  of  the  cloud  the  flash  leaped  out, 
quivering  again  and  again  down  to  the  edge  of  the  prairie ; 
and  at  the  same  instant  came  the  sharp  burst  and  the 
long  rolling  peal  of  the  thunder.  A  cool  wind,  filled  with 
the  smell  of  rain,  just  then  overtook  us,  levelling  the  tall 
grass  by  the  side  of  the  path. 

"  Come  on ;  we  must  ride  for  it !  "  shouted  Shaw,  rush- 
ing by  at  full  speed,  his  led  horse  snorting  at  his  side. 
The  wliole  party  broke  into  full  gallop,  and  made  for  the 
tree?  in  front.  Passing  these,  we  found  beyond  them  a 
meadow  which  they  half  inclosed.  We  rode  pell-mell 
upon  the  ground,  leaped  from  horseback,  tore  off  our  sad- 
dles ;  and  in  a  moment  each  man  was  kneeling  at  his 
horse's  feet.  The  hobbles  were  adjusted,  and  the  animals 
turned  loose  ;  then,  as  the  wagons  came  wheeling  rapidly 
to  the  spot,  we  seized  upon  the  tent-poles,  and  just  as  the 
storm  broke,  we  were  prepared  to  receive  it.  It  came 
upon  us  almost  with  the  darkness  of  night :  the  trees, 


THE    "BIG   BLUE/'  45 

which  were  close  at  hand,  were  completely  shrouded  by 
the  roaring  torrents  of  rain. 

We  were  sitting  in  the  tent  when  Deslauriers,  with  his 
broad  felt  hat  hanging  about  his  ears,  and  his  shoulders 
glistening  with  rain,  thrust  in  his  head. 

"  Voulez  vous  du  souper,  tout  de  suite  ?  I  can  make 
fire,  sous  la  charette  —  I  b'lieve  so  —  I  try." 

"  Never  mind  supper,  man ;  come  in  out  of  the  rain.** 

Deslauriers  accordingly  crouched  in  the  entrance,  for 
modesty  would  not  permit  him  to  intrude  farther. 

Our  tent  was  none  of  the  best  defence  against  such  a 
cataract.  The  rain  could  not  enter  bodily,  but  it  beat 
through  the  canvas  in  a  fine  drizzle,  that  wetted  us  just  as 
effectually.  We  sat  upon  our  saddles  with  faces  of  the 
utmost  surliness,  while  the  water  dropped  from  the  vizors 
of  our  caps,  and  trickled  down  our  cheeks.  My  india- 
rubber  cloak  conducted  twenty  little  rapid  streamlets  to 
the  ground ;  and  Shaw's  blanket  coat  was  saturated  like 
a  sponge.  But  what  most  concerned  us  was  the  sight  of 
several  puddles  of  water  rapidly  accumulating ;  one,  in 
particular,  that  was  gathering  around  the  tent-pole, 
threatened  to  overspread  the  whole  area  within  the  tent, 
holding  forth  but  an  indifferent  promise  of  a  comfortable 
night's  rest.  Towards  sunset,  however,  the  storm  ceased 
as  suddenly  as  it  began.  A  bright  streak  of  clear  red 
sky  appeared  above  the  western  verge  of  the  prairie,  the 
horizontal  rays  of  the  sinking  sun  streamed  through  it, 
and  glittered  in  a  thousand  prismatic  colors  upon  the 
dripping  groves  and  the  prostrate  grass.  The  pools  in 
the  tent  dwindled  and  sunk  into  the  saturated  soil. 

But  all  our  hopes  were  delusive.  Scarcely  had  night 
set  in  when  the  tumult  broke  forth  anew.  The  thunder 
here  is  not  like  the  tame  thunder  of  the  Atlantic  coast. 
Bursting  with  a  terrific  crash  directly  above  our  heads,  it 


46  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

roared  over  the  boundless  waste  of  prairie,  seeming  to  roll 
around  the  whole  circle  of  the  firmament  with  a  peculiar 
and  awful  reverberation.  The  lightning  flashed  all 
night,  playing  with  its  livid  glare  upon  the  neighboring 
trees,  revealing  the  vast  expanse  of  the  plain,  and  then 
leaving  us  shut  in  as  if  by  a  palpable  wall  of  darkness. 

It  did  not  disturb  us  much.  Now  and  ther  a  peal 
awakened  us,  and  made  us  conscious  of  the  electric  battle 
that  was  raging,  and  of  the  floods  that  dashed  upon  the 
stanch  canvas  over  our  heads.  We  lay  upon  india-rubber 
cloths,  placed  between  our  blankets  and  the  soil.  For  a 
while  they  excluded  the  water  to  admiration ;  but  when 
at  length  it  accumulated  and  began  to  run  over  the 
edges,  they  served  equally  well  to  retain  it,  so  that 
towards  the  end  of  the  night  we  were  unconsciously 
reposing  in  small  pools  of  rain. 

On  finally  awaking  in  the  morning  the  prospect  was 
not  a  cheerful  one.  The  rain  no  longer  poured  in  tor- 
rents ;  but  it  pattered  with  a  quiet  pertinacity  upon  the 
strained  and  saturated  canvas.  We  disengaged  ourselves 
from  our  blankets,  every  fibre  of  which  glistened  with 
little  bead-like  drops  of  water,  and  looked  out  in  the  vain 
hope  of  discovering  some  token  of  fair  weather.  The 
clouds,  in  lead-colored  volumes,  rested  upon  the  dismal 
verge  of  the  prairie,  or  hung  sluggishly  overhead,  while 
the  earth  wore  an  aspect  no  more  attractive  than  the 
heavens,  exhibiting  nothing  but  pools  of  water,  grass 
beaten  down,  and  mud  well  trampled  by  our  mules  and 
horses.  Our  companions'  tent,  with  an  air  of  forlorn  and 
passive  misery,  and  their  wagons  in  like  manner  drenched 
and  woe-begone,  stood  not  far  off.  The  Captain  was  just 
returning  from  his  morning's  inspection  of  the  horses. 
He  stalked  through  the  mist  and  rain,  with  his  plaid 
around  his  shoulders,  his  little  pipe,  dingy  as  an  antiqua 


THE    "  BIG   BLUE."  47 

rian  relic,  projecting  from  beneath,  his  moustache,  and  his 
brother  Jack  at  his  heels. 

At  noon  the  sky  was  clear,  and  we  set  out,  trailing 
through  mud  and  slime  six  inches  deep.  That  night  we 
were  spared  the  customary  infliction  of  the  shower-bath. 

On  the  next  afternoon  we  were  moving  slowly  along, 
not  far  from  a  patch  of  woods  which  lay  on  the  right. 
Jack  C rode  a  little  in  advance,  — 

"  The  livelong  day  he  had  not  spoke  ;  ** 

when  suddenly  he  faced  about,  pointed  to  the  woods,  and 
roared  out  to  his  brother,  — 

"  O  Bill !  here's  a  cow." 

The  Captain  instantly  galloped  forward,  and  he  and 
Jack  made  a  vain  attempt  to  capture  the  prize ;  but  the 
cow,  with  a  well-grounded  distrust  of  their  intentions, 

took  refuge  among  the  trees.  R joined  them,  and  they 

soon  drove  her  out.  We  watched  their  evolutions  as  they 
galloped  around  her,  trying  in  vain  to  noose  her  with  their 
trail-ropes,  which  they  had  converted  into  lariettes  for  the 
occasion.  At  length  they  resorted  to  milder  measures, 
and  the  cow  was  driven  along  with  the  party.  Soon  after 
the  usual  thunder-storm  came  up,  the  wind  blowing  with 
such  fury  that  the  streams  of  rain  flew  almost  horizontally 
along  the  prairie,  roaring  like  a  cataract.  The  horses 
turned  tail  to  the  storm,  and  stood  hanging  their  heads, 
bearing  the  infliction  with  an  air  of  meekness  and  resig- 
nation ;  while  we  drew  our  heads  between  our  shoulders, 
and  crouched  forward,  so  as  to  make  our  backs  serve  as  a 
pent-house  for  the  rest  of  our  persons.  Meanwhile  the 
cow,  taking  advantage  of  the  tumult,  ran  off,  to  the  great 
discomfiture  of  the  Captain.  In  defiance  of  the  storm, 
he  pulled  his  cap  tight  over  his  brows,  jerked  a  huge 
buffalo-pistol  from  his  holster,  and  set  out  at  full  speed 


£8  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

after  her.  This  was  the  last  we  saw  of  them  for  some 
time,  the  mist  and  rain  making  an  impenetrable  veil ; 
but  at  length  we  heard  the  Captain's  shout,  and  saw  him 
looming  through  the  tempest,  the  picture  of  a  Hibernian 
cavalier,  with  his  cocked  pistol  held  aloft  for  safety's  sake, 
and  a  countenance  of  anxiety  and  excitement.  The  cow 
trotted  before  him,  but  exhibited  evident  signs  of  an  in- 
tention to  run  off  again,  and  the  Captain  was  roaring  to 
us  to  head  her.  But  the  rain  had  got  in  behind  our  coat 
collars,  and  was  travelling  over  our  necks  in  numerous 
little  streamlets,  and  being  afraid  to  move  our  heads,  for 
fear  of  admitting  more,  we  sat  stiff  and  immovable,  look- 
ing at  the  Captain  askance,  and  laughing  at  his  frantic 
movements.  At  last  the  cow  made  a  sudden  plunge  and 
ran  off ;  the  Captain  grasped  his  pistol  firmly,  spurred  his 
horse,  and  galloped  after,  with  evident  designs  of  mis- 
chief. In  a  moment  we  heard  the  faint  report,  deadened 
by  the  rain,  and  then  the  conqueror  and  his  victim  reap- 
peared, the  latter  shot  through  the  body,  and  quite  help- 
less. Not  long  after,  the  storm  moderated,  and  we 
advanced  again.  The  cow  walked  painfully  along  under 
the  charge  of  Jack,  to  whom  the  Captain  had  committed 
her,  while  he  himself  rode  forward  in  his  old  capacity  of 
vidette.  We  were  approaching  a  long  line  of  trees,  that- 
followed  a  stream  stretching  across  our  path,  far  in  front, 
when  we  beheld  the  vidette  galloping  towards  us  appar- 
ently much  excited,  but  with  a  broad  grin  on  his  face. 

"  Let  that  cow  drop  behind  I "  he  shouted  to  us ;  "  here's 
her  owners." 

And,  in  fact,  as  we  approached  the  line  of  trees,  a  large 
white  object,  like  a  tent,  was  visible  behind  them.  On 
approaching,  however,  we  found,  instead  of  the  expected 
Mormon  camp,  nothing  but  the  lonely  prairie,  and  a  large 
white  rock  standing  by  the  path.  The  cow,  therefore, 


THE    "BIG   BLUE."  49 

resumed  her  place  in  our  procession.  She  walked  on 

until  we  encamped,  when  R ,  approaching  with  his 

English  double-barrelled  rifle,  took  aim  at  her  heart,  and 
discharged  into  it  first  one  bullet  and  then  the  other.  She 
was  then  butchered  on  the  most  approved  principles  of 
woodcraft,  and  furnished  a  very  welcome  item  to  our 
somewhat  limited  bill  of  fare. 

In  a  day  or  two  more  we  reached  the  river  called  the 
"  Big  Blue."  By  titles  equally  elegant,  almost  all  the 
streams  of  this  region  are  designated.  We  had  struggled 
through  ditches  and  little  brooks  all  that  morning ;  but 
on  traversing  the  dense  woods  that  lined  the  banks  of  the 
Blue,  we  found  that  more  formidable  difficulties  awaited 
us,  for  the  stream,  swollen  by  the  rains,  was  wide,  deep, 
and  rapid. 

No  sooner  were  we  on  the  spot  than  R flung  off 

his  clothes,  and  swam  across,  or  splashed  through  the 
shallows,  with  the  end  of  a  rope  between  his  teeth.  We 
all  looked  on  in  admiration,  wondering  what  might  be 
the  object  of  this  energetic  preparation;  but  soon  we 
heard  him  shouting  :  "  Give  that  rope  a  turn  round  that 
stump.  You,  Sorel;  do  you  hear?  Look  sharp,  now, 
Boisverd.  Come  over  to  this  side,  some  of  you,  and  help 
me."  The  men  to  whom  these  orders  were  directed  paid 
not  the  least  attention  to  them,  though  they  were  poured 
out  without  pause'  or  intermission.  Henry  Chatillon 
directed  the  work,  and  it  proceeded  quietly  and  rapidly. 

R 's  sharp  brattling  voice  might  have  been  heard 

incessantly  ;  and  he  was  leaping  about  with  the  utmost 
activity.  His  commands  were  rather  amusingly  incon- 
sistent ;  for  when  he  saw  that  the  men  would  not  do  as 
he  told  them,  he  accommodated  himself  to  circumstances, 
and  with  the  utmost  vehemence  ordered  them  to  do  pre- 
cisely that  which  they  were  at  the  time  engaged  upon,  no 


50  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

doubt  recollecting  the  story  of  Mahomet  and  the  refractory 
mountain.  Shaw  smiled ;  R observed  it,  and,  ap- 
proaching with  a  countenance  of  indignation,  began  to 
vapor  a  little,  but  was  instantly  reduced  to  silence. 

The  raft  was  at  length  complete.  We  piled  our  goods 
upon  it,  with  the  exception  of  our  guns,  which  each  man 
chose  to  retain  in  his  own  keeping.  Sorel,  Boisverd, 
Wright,  and  Deslauriers  took  their  stations  at  the  four 
corners,  to  hold  it  together,  and  swim  across  with  it ;  and 
in  a  moment  more  all  our  earthly  possessions  were  float- 
ing  on  the  turbid  waters  of  the  Big  Blue.  We  sat  on  the 
bank,  anxiously  watching  the  result,  until  we  saw  the  raft 
safe  landed  in  a  little  cove  far  down  on  the  opposite  bank. 
The  empty  wagons  were  easily  passed  across  ;  and  then, 
each  man  mounting  a  horse,  we  rode  through  the  stream 
the  stray  animals  following  of  their  own  accord. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  PLATTE  AND  THE  DESERT. 

\  T  7E  were  now  at  the  end  of  our  solitary  journey- 
V  V  ings  along  the  St.  Joseph  trail.  On  the  evening 
of  the  twenty-third  of  May  we  encamped  near  its  junction 
with  the  old  legitimate  trail  of  the  Oregon  emigrants. 
We  had  ridden  long  that  afternoon,  trying  in  vain  to 
find  wood  and  water,  until  at  length  we  saw  the  sunset 
sky  reflected  from  a  pool  encircled  by  bushes  and  rocks. 
The  water  lay  in  the  bottom  of  a  hollow,  the  smooth 
prairie  gracefully  rising  in  ocean-like  swells  on  every 
side.  We  pitched  our  tents  by  it ;  not  however  before 
the  keen  eye  of  Henry  Chatillon  had  discerned  some 
unusual  object  upon  the  faintly-defined  outline  of  the 
distant  swell.  But  in  the  moist,  hazy  atmosphere  of 
the  evening,  nothing  could  be  clearly  distinguished.  As 
we  lay  around  the  fire  after  supper,  a  low  and  distant 
sound,  strange  enough  amid  the  loneliness  of  the  prairie, 
reached  our  ears  —  peals  of  laughter,  and  the  faint  voices 
of  men  and  women.  For  eight  days  we  had  not  en- 
countered a  human  being,  and  this  singular  warning  of 
their  vicinity  had  an  effect  extremely  impressive. 

About  dark  a  sallow-faced  fellow  descended  the  hill  on 
horseback,  and  splashing  through  the  pool,  rode  up  to  the 
tents.  He  was  enveloped  in  a  huge  cloak,  and  his  broad 
felt  hat  was  weeping  about  his  ears  with  the  drizzling  moist- 
ure of  the  evening.  Another  followed,  a  stout,  square- 


52  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

built,  intelligent-looking  man,  who  announced  himself  as 
leader  of  an  emigrant  party,  encamped  a  mile  in  advance 
of  us.  About  twenty  wagons,  he  said,  were  with  him ; 
the  rest  of  his  party  were  on  the  other  side  of  the  Big 
Blue,  waiting  for  a  woman  who  was  in  the  pains  of  child- 
birth, and  quarrelling  meanwhile  among  themselves. 

These  were  the  first  emigrants  that  we  had  overtaken, 
although  we  had  found  abundant  and  melancholy  traces 
of  their  progress  throughout  the  course  of  the  journey. 
Sometimes  we  passed  the  grave  of  one  who  had  sickened 
and  died  on  the  way.  The  earth  was  usually  torn  up, 
and  covered  thickly  with  wolf-trackso  Some  had  escaped 
this  violation.  One  morning,  a  piece  of  plank,  standing 
upright  on  the  summit  of  a  grassy  hill,  attracted  our 
notice,  and  riding  up  to  it,  we  found  the  following  words 
very  roughly  traced  upon  it,  apparently  with  a  red-hot 
piece  of  iron :  — 

MARY  ELLIS. 

DIED  MAY  7th,  1845. 

AGED   TWO  MONTHS. 

Such  tokens  were  of  common  occurrence. 

We  were  late  in  breaking  up  our  camp  on  the  following 
morning,  and  scarcely  had  we  ridden  a  mile  when  we 
saw,  far  in  advance  of  us,  drawn  against  the  horizon,  a 
line  of  objects  stretching  at  regular  intervals  along  the 
level  edge  of  the  prairie.  An  intervening  swell  soon  hid 
them  from  sight,  until,  ascending  it  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
after,  we  saw  close  before  us  the  emigrant  caravan,  with 
its  heavy  white  wagons  creeping  on  in  slow  procession, 
and  a  large  drove  of  cattle  following  behind.  Half  a 
dozen  yellow-visaged  Missourians,  mounted  on  horseback, 
were  cursing  and  shouting  among  them,  their  lank  angu- 
lar proportions  enveloped  in  brown  homespun,  evidently 


THE  PLATTE  AND  THE  DESERT.       53 

cut  and  adjusted  by  the  hands  of  a  domestic  female 
tailor.  As  we  approached,  they  called  out  to  us :  "  How 
are  ye,  boys  ?  Are  ye  for  Oregon  or  California  ?  " 

As  we  pushed  rapidly  by  the  wagons,  children's  faces 
were  thrust  out  from  the  white  coverings  to  look  at  us ; 
while  the  care-worn,  thin-featured  matron,  or  the  buxom 
girl,  seated  in  front,  suspended  the  knitting  on  which 
most  of  them  were  engaged  to  stare  at  us  with  wonder- 
ing curiosity.  By  the  side  of  each  wagon  stalked  the 
proprietor,,  urging  on  his  patient  oxen,  who  shouldered 
heavily  along,  inch  by  inch,  on  their  interminable  .jour- 
ney. It  was  easy  to  see  that  fear  and  dissension  prevailed 
among  them;  some  of  the  men — but  these,  with  one 
exception,  were  bachelors  —  looked  wistfully  upon  us  as 
we  rode  lightly  and  swiftly  by,  and  then  impatiently  at 
their  own  lumbering  wagons  and  heavy-gaited  oxen. 
Others  were  unwilling  to  advance  at  all,  until  the  party 
they  had  left  behind  should  have  rejoined  them.  Many 
were  murmuring  against  the  leader  they  had  chosen,  and 
wished  to  depose  him ;  and  this  discontent  was  fomented 
by  some  ambitious  spirits,  who  had  hopes  of  succeeding 
in  his  place.  The  women  were  divided  between  regrets 
for  the  homes  they  had  left  and  fear  of  the  deserts  and 
savages  before  them. 

We  soon  left  them  far  behind,  and  hoped  that  we  had 
taken  a  final  leave  ;  but  our  companions'  wagon  stuck  so 
long  in  a  deep  muddy  ditch,  that  before  it  was  extricated 
the  van  of  the  emigrant  caravan  appeared  again,  descend- 
ing a  ridge  close  at  hand.  Wagon  after  wagon  plunged 
through  the  mud ;  and  as  it  was  nearly  noon,  and  the 
place  promised  shade  and  water,  we  saw  with  satisfaction 
that  they  were  resolved  to  encamp.  Soon  the  wagons 
were  wheeled  into  a  circle :  the  cattle  were  grazing  over 
the  meadow,  and  the  men,  with  sour,  sullen  faces,  were 


54  THE    OREGON    TRAIL.     , 

looking  about  for  wood  and  water.  They  seemed  to  meet 
but  indifferent  success.  As  we  left  the  ground,  I  saw  a 
tall,  slouching  fellow,  with  the  nasal  accent  of  "  down 
east,"  contemplating  the  contents  of  his  tin  cup,  which 
he  had  just  filled  with  water. 

"  Look  here,  you,"  said  he ;  "  ir's  chock-full  of  animals ! " 
The  cup,  as  he  held  it  out,  exhibited  in  fact  an  extraor- 
dinary variety  and  profusion  of  animal  and  vegetable  life. 
Riding  up  the   little  hill,  and  looking  back  on   the 
meadow,  we  could  easily  see  that  all  was  not  right  in  the 
camp  of  the  emigrants.    The  men  were  crowded  together, 
and  an  angry  discussion  seemed  to  be  going  forward. 

R was  missing  from  his  wonted  place  in  the  line,  and 

the  Captain  told  us  that  he  had  remained  behind  to  get 
his  horse  shod  by  a  blacksmith  attached  to  the  emigran/ 
party.  Something  whispered  in  our  ears  that  mischiei 
was  on  foot ;  we  kept  on,  however,  and  coming  soon  to  a 
stream  of  tolerable  water,  we  stopped  to  rest  and  dine. 
Still  the  absentee  lingered  behind.  At  last,  at  the  distance 
of  a  mile,  he  and  his  horse  suddenly  appeared,  sharply 
defined  against  the  sky  on  the  summit  of  a  hill ;  and  close 
behind,  a  huge  white  object  rose  slowly  into  view. 
"What  is  that  blockhead  bringing  with  him  now?" 
A  moment  dispelled  the  mystery.  Slowly  and  solemnly, 
one  behind  the  other,  four  long  trains  of  oxen  and  four 
emigrant  wagons  rolled  over  the  crest  of  the  hill  and 

gravely  descended,  while  R rode  in  state  in  the  van. 

It  seems,  that  during  the  process  of  shoeing  the  horse, 
the  smothered  dissensions  among  the  emigrants  suddenly 
broke  into  open  rupture.  Some  insisted  on  pushing  for- 
ward, some  on  remaining  where  they  were,  and  some  on 
going  back.  Kearsley,  their  captain,  threw  up  his  com- 
mand in  disgust.  "  And  now,  boys,"  said  he,  "  if  any  of 
you  are  for  going  ahead,  just  you  come  along  with  me." 


THE  PLATTE  AND  THE  DESERT.       55 

Four  wagons,  with  ten  men,  one  woman,  and  one  small 
child,  made  up  the  force  of  the  "  go-ahead  "  faction,  and 

R ,  with  his  usual  proclivity  toward  mischief,  invited 

them  to  join  our  party.  Fear  of  the  Indians  —  for  I  can 
conceive  no  other  motive  —  must  have  induced  him  to 
court  so  burdensome  an  alliance.  At  all  events,  the  pro- 
ceeding was  a  cool  one.  The  men  who  joined  us,  it  is 
true,  were  all  that  could  be  desired ;  rude  indeed  in  man- 
ners, but  frank,  manly,  and  intelligent.  To  tell  them  we 
could  not  travel  with  them  was  out  of  the  question.  I 
merely  reminded  Kearsley  that  if  his  oxen  could  not  keep 
up  with  our  mules  he  must  expect  to  be  left  behind,  as  we 
could  not  consent  to  be  farther  delayed  on  the  journey ; 
but  he  immediately  replied,  that  his  oxen  "  should  keep 
up;  and  if  they  couldn't,  why,  he  allowed,  he'd  find 
out  how  to  make  'em." 

On  the  next  day,  as  it  chanced,  our  English  companions 
broke  the  axle-tree  of  their  wagon,  and  down  came  the 
whole  cumbrous  machine  lumbering  into  the  bed  of  a 
brook.  Here  was  a  day's  work  cut  out  for  us.  Mean- 
while our  emigrant  associates  kept  on  their  way,  and  so 
vigorously  did  they  urge  forward  their  powerful  oxen, 
that,  what  with  the  broken  axle-tree  and  other  mishaps, 
it  was  full  a  week  before  we  overtook  them ;  when  at 
length  we  discovered  them,  one  afternoon,  crawling 
quietly  along  the  sandy  brink  of  the  Platte.  But  mean- 
while various  incidents  occurred  to  ourselves. 

It  was  probable  that  at  this  stage  of  our  journey  the 
Pawnees  would  attempt  to  rob  us.  We  began  therefore 
to  stand  guard  in  turn,  dividing  the  night  into  three 
watches,  and  appointing  two  men  for  each.  Deslauriers 
and  I  held  guard  together.  We  did  not  march  with  mili- 
tary precision  to  and  fro  before  the  tents :  our  discipline 
was  by  no  means  so  strict.  We  wrapped  ourselves  in  our 


56  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

blankets,  and  sat  down  by  the  fire ;  and  Deslauriers,  com- 
bining his  culinary  functions  with  his  duties  as  sentinel, 
employed  himself  in  boiling  the  head  of  an  antelope  for 
our  breakfast.  Yet  we  were  models  of  vigilance  in  com- 
parison with  some  of  the  party ;  for  the  ordinary  practice 
of  the  guard  was  to  lay  his  rifle  on  the  ground,  and, 
enveloping  his  nose  in  his  blanket,  meditate  on  his  mis- 
tress, or  whatever  subject  best  pleased  him.  This  is 
all  well  enough  when  among  Indians  who  do  not  habit- 
ually proceed  further  in  their  hostility  than  robbing 
travellers  of  their  horses  and  mules,  though,  indeed,  a 
Pawnee's  forbearance  is  not  always  to  be  trusted;  but  in 
certain  regions  farther  to  the  west,  the  guard  must  beware 
how  he  exposes  his  person  to  the  light  of  the  fire,  lest 
some  keen-eyed  skulking  marksman  should  let  fly  a 
bullet  or  an  arrow  from  the  darkness. 

Among  various  tales  that  circulated  around  our  camp- 
fire  was  one  told  by  Boisverd,  and  not  inappropriate  here. 
He  was  trapping  with  several  companions  on  the  skirts 
of  the  Blackfoot  country.  The  man  on  guard,  knowing 
that  it  behooved  him  to  put  forth  his  utmost  precaution, 
kept  aloof  from  the  fire-light,  and  sat  watching  intently 
on  all  sides.  At  length  he  was  aware  of  a  dark,  crouch- 
ing figure,  stealing  noiselessly  into  the  circle  of  the  light. 
He  hastily  cocked  his  rifle,  but  the  sharp  click  of  the 
lock  caught  the  ear  of  the  Blackfoot,  whose  senses  were 
all  on  the  alert.  Raising  his  arrow,  already  fitted  to  the 
string,  he  shot  it  in  the  direction  of  the  sound.  So  sure 
was  his  aim,  that  he  drove  it  through  the  throat  of  the 
unfortunate  guard,  and  then,  with  a  loud  yell,  bounded 
from  the  camp. 

As  I  looked  at  the  partner  of  my  watch,  puffing  and 
blowing  over  his  fire,  it  occurred  to  me  that  he  might  not 
prove  the  most  efficient  auxiliary  in  time  of  trouble. 


THE  PLATTE  AND  THE  DESERT.       57 

"Deslauriers,"  said  I,  "would  you  run  away  if  the 
Pawnees  should  fire  at  us?" 

"  Ah !  oui,  oui,  Monsieur  I  "  he  replied  very  decisively. 

At  this  instant  a  whimsical  variety  of  voices,  —  barks, 
howls,  yelps,  and  whines, — all  mingled  together,  sounded 
from  the  prairie,  not  far  off,  as  if  a  conclave  of  wolves  of 
every  age  and  sex  were  assembled  there.  Deslauriers 
looked  up  from  his  work  with  a  laugh,  and  began  to  imi- 
tate this  medley  of  sounds  with  a  ludicrous  accuracy.  At 
this  they  were  repeated  with  redoubled  emphasis,  the 
musician  being  apparently  indignant  at  the  successful 
efforts  of  a  rival.  They  all  proceeded  from  the  throat  of 
one  little  wolf,  not  larger  than  a  spaniel,  seated  by  him- 
self at  some  distance.  He  was  of  the  species  called  the 
prairie-wolf:  a  grim-visaged,  but  harmless  little  brute, 
whose  worst  propensity  is  creeping  among  horses  and 
gnawing  the  ropes  of  raw  hide  by  which  they  are  picketed 
around  the  camp.  Other  beasts  roam  the  prairies,  far 
more  formidable  in  aspect  and  in  character.  These  are 
the  large  white  and  gray  wolves,  whose  deep  howl  we 
heard  at  intervals  from  far  and  near. 

At  last  I  fell  into  a  doze,  and  awaking  from  it,  found 
Deslauriers  fast  asleep.  Scandalized  by  this  breach  of 
discipline,  I  was  about  to  stimulate  his  vigilance  by  stir- 
ring him  with  the  stock  of  my  rifle ;  but,  compassion  pre- 
vailing, I  determined  to  let  him  sleep  a  while,  and  then 
arouse  him  to  administer  a  suitable  reproof  for  such  for- 
getf  ulness  of  duty.  Now  and  then  I  walked  the  rounds 
among  the  silent  horses,  to  see  that  all  was  right.  The 
night  was  chill,  damp,  and  dark,  the  dank  grass  bending 
under  the  icy  dew-drops.  At  the  distance  of  a  rod  or  two 
the  tents  were  invisible,  and  nothing  could  be  seen  but 
the  obscure  figures  of  the  horses,  deeply  breathing,  and 
restlessly  starting  as  they  slept,  or  still  slowly  champing 


58  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

the  grass.  Far  off,  beyond  the  black  outline  of  the  prairie 
there  was  a  ruddy  light,  gradually  increasing,  like  the 
glow  of  a  conflagration ;  until  at  length  the  broad  disk  of 
the  moon,  blood-red,  and  vastly  magnified  by  the  vapors, 
rose  slowly  upon  the  darkness,  flecked  by  one  or  two  little 
clouds,  and  as  the  light  poured  over  the  gloomy  plain,  a 
fierce  and  stern  howl,  close  at  hand,  seemed  to  greet  it  as 
an  unwelcome  intruder.  There  was  something  impressive 
and  awful  in  the  place  and  the  hour ;  for  I  and  the  beasts 
were  all  that  had  consciousness  for  many  a  league  around. 

Some  days  elapsed,  and  brought  us  near  the  Platte. 
Two  men  on  horseback  approached  us  one  morning,  and 
we  watched  them  with  the  curiosity  and  interest  that, 
upon  the  solitude  of  the  plains,  such  an  encounter  always 
excites.  They  were  evidently  whites,  from  their  mode 
of  riding,  though,  contrary  to  the  usage  of  that  region, 
neither  of  them  carried  a  rifle. 

"  Fools ! "  remarked  Henry  Chatillon,  "  to  ride  that 
way  on  the  prairie ;  Pawnee  find  them  —  then  they 
catch  it." 

Pawnee  had  found  them,  and  they  had  come  very  near 
"  catching  it ; "  indeed,  nothing  saved  them  but  the  ap- 
proach of  our  party.  Shaw  and  I  knew  one  of  them,  —  a 
man  named  Turner,  whom  we  had  seen  at  Westport.  He 
and  his  companion  belonged  to  an  emigrant  party  en- 
camped a  few  miles  in  advance,  and  had  returned  to  look 
for  some  stray  oxen,  leaving  their  rifles,  with  character- 
istic rashness  or  ignorance,  behind  them.  Their  neglect 
had  nearly  cost  them  dear;  for,  just  before  we  came  up, 
half  a  dozen  Indians  approached,  and,  seeing  them  ap- 
parently defenceless,  one  of  the  rascals  seized  the  bridle 
of  Turner's  horse  and  ordered  him  to  dismount.  Tur- 
ner was  wholly  unarmed ;  but  the  other  jerked  a  pistol 
out  of  his  pocket,  at  which  the  Pawnee  recoiled;  and  just 


THE  PLATTE  AND  THE  DESERT.        59 

then  some  of  our  men  appearing  in  the  distance,  the  whole 
party  whipped  their  rugged  little  horses  and  made  off. 
In  no  way  daunted,  Turner  foolishly  persisted  in  going 
forward. 

Long  after  leaving  him,  and  late  that  afternoon,  in  the 
midst  of  a  gloomy  and  barren  prairie,  we  came  suddenly 
upon  the  great  trail  of  the  Pawnees,  leading  from  their 
villages  on  the  Platte  to  their  war  and  hunting  grounds 
to  the  southward.  Here  every  summer  passes  the  motley 
concourse  :  thousands  of  savages,  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, horses  and  mules,  laden  with  their  weapons  and  im- 
plements, and  an  innumerable  multitude  of  unruly  wolfish 
dogs,  who  have  not  acquired  the  civilized  accomplishment 
of  barking,  but  howl  like  their  wild  cousins  of  the  prairie. 

The  permanent  winter  villages  of  the  Pawnees  stand 
on  the  lower  Platte,  but  throughout  the  summer  the 
greater  part  of  the  inhabitants  are  wandering  over  the 
plains, — a  treacherous,  cowardly  banditti,  who,  by  a  thou- 
sand acts  of  pillage  and  murder,  have  deserved  chastise- 
ment at  the  hands  of  government.  Last  year  a  Dahcotah 
warrior  performed  a  notable  exploit  at  one  of  these  vil- 
lages. He  approached  it  alone,  in  the  middle  of  a  dark 
night,  and  clambering  up  the  outside  of  one  of  the  lodges, 
which  are  in  the  form  of  a  half-sphere,  looked  in  at  the 
round  hole  made  at  the  top  for  the  escape  of  smoke.  The 
dusky  light  from  the  embers  showed  him  the  forms  of 
the  sleeping  inmates  ;  and  dropping  lightly  through  the 
opening,  he  unsheathed  his  knife,  and,  stirring  the  fire, 
coolly  selected  his  victims.  One  by  one,  he  stabbed 
and  scalped  them  ;  when  a  child  suddenly  awoke  and 
screamed.  He  rushed  from  the  lodge,  yelled  a  Sioux 
war-cry,  shouted  his  name  in  triumph  and  defiance,  and 
darted  out  upon  the  dark  prairie,  leaving  the  whole  village 
behind  him  in  a  tumult,  with  the  howling  and  baying  of 


60  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

dogs,  the  screams  of  women,  and  the  yells  of  the  enraged 
warriors. 

Our  friend  Kearsley,  as  we  learned  on  rejoining  him, 
signalized  himself  by  a  less  bloody  achievement.  He  and 
his  men  were  good  woodsmen,  well  skilled  in  the  use  of 
the  rifle,  but  found  themselves  wholly  out  of  their  element 
on  the  prairie.  None  of  them  had  ever  seen  a  buffalo ; 
and  they  had  very  vague  conceptions  of  his  nature  and 
appearance.  On  the  day  after  they  reached  the  Platte, 
looking  towards  a  distant  swell,  they  beheld  a  multitude 
of  little  black  specks  in  motion  upon  its  surface. 

"Take  your  rifles,  boys,"  said  Kearsley,  "and  we'll 
have  fresh  meat  for  supper."  This  inducement  was  quite 
sufficient.  The  ten  men  left  their  wagons,  and  set  out  in 
hot  haste,  some  on  horseback  and  some  on  foot,  in  pursuit 
of  the  supposed  buffalo.  Meanwhile  a  high,  grassy  ridge 
shut  the  game  from  view ;  but  mounting  it  after  half  an 
hour's  running  and  riding,  they  found  themselves  suddenly 
confronted  by  about  thirty  mounted  Pawnees.  Amaze- 
ment and  consternation  were  mutual.  Having  nothing  but 
their  bows  and  arrows,  the  Indians  thought  their  hour  was 
come,  and  the  fate  that  they  were  conscious  of  richly 
deserving  about  to  overtake  them.  So  they  began,  one 
and  all,  to  shout  forth  the  most  cordial  salutations,  run- 
ning up  with  extreme  earnestness  to  shake  hands  with 
the  Missourians,  who  were  as  much  rejoiced  as  they  were 
to  escape  the  expected  conflict. 

A  low,  undulating  line  of  sand-hills  bounded  the  horizon 
before  us.  That  day  we  rode  ten  hours,  and  it  was  dusk 
before  we  entered  the  hollows  and  gorges  of  these  gloomy 
little  hills.  At  length  we  gained  the  summit,  and  the 
long-expected  valley  of  the  Platte  lay  before  us.  We  all 
drew  rein,  and  sat  joyfully  looking  down  upon  the  pros- 
pect. It  was  right  welcome ;  strange,  too,  and  striking 


THE  PLATTE  AND  THE  DESERT.       61 

to  the  imagination,  and  yet  it  had  not  one  picturesque  or 
beautiful  feature  ;  nor  had  it  any  of  the  features  of  gran- 
deur, other  than  its  vast  extent,  its  solitude,  and  its  wild- 
ness.  For  league  after  league,  a  plain  as  level  as  a  lake 
was  outspread  beneath  us;  here  and  there  the  Platte, 
divided  into  a  dozen  thread-like  sluices,  was  traversing  it, 
and  an  occasional  clump  of  wood,  rising  in  the  midst  like 
a  shadowy  island,  relieved  the  monotony  of  the  waste.  No 
living  thing  was  moving  throughout  the  vast  landscape, 
except  the  lizards  that  darted  over  the  sand  and  through 
the  rank  grass  and  prickly  pears  at  our  feet. 

We  had  passed  the  more  tedious  part  of  the  journey ; 
but  four  hundred  miles  still  intervened  between  us  and 
Fort  Laramie ;  and  to  reach  that  point  cost  us  the  travel 
of  three  more  weeks.  During  the  whole  of  this  time  we 
were  passing  up  the  middle  of  a  long,  narrow,  sandy  plain, 
reaching  like  an  outstretched  belt  nearly  to  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  Two  lines  of  sand-hills,  broken  often  into 
the  wildest  and  most  fantastic  forms,  flanked  the  valley 
at  the  distance  of  a  mile  or  two  on  the  right  and  left ; 
while  beyond  them  lay  a  barren,  trackless  waste,  extend- 
ing for  hundreds  of  miles  to  the  Arkansas  on  the  one 
side,  and  the  Missouri  on  the  other.  Before  and  behind 
us,  the  level  monotony  of  the  plain  was  unbroken  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach.  Sometimes  it  glared  in  the  sun, 
an  expanse  of  hot,  bare  sand ;  sometimes  it  was  veiled 
by  long  coarse  grass.  Skulls  and  whitening  bones  of 
buffalo  were  scattered  everywhere;  the  ground  was 
tracked  by  myriads  of  them,  and  often  covered  with  the 
circular  indentations  where  the  bulls  had  wallowed  in  the 
hot  weather.  From  every  gorge  and  ravine,  opening 
from  the  hills,  descended  deep,  well-worn  paths,  where 
the  buffalo  issue  twice  a  day  in  regular  procession  to 
drink  in  the  Platte.  The  river  itself  runs  through  the 


62  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

midst,  a  thin  sheet  of  rapid,  turbid  water,  half  a  mile 
wide,  and  scarcely  two  feet  deep.  Its  low  banks,  for  the 
most  part  without  a  bush  or  a  tree,  are  of  loose  sand, 
with  which  the  stream  is  so  charged  that  it  grates  on  the 
teeth  in  drinking.  The  naked  landscape  is,  of  itself, 
dreary  and  monotonous  enough ;  and  yet  the  wild  beasts 
and  wild  men  that  frequent  the  valley  of  the  Platte  make 
it  a  scene  of  interest  and  excitement  to  the  traveller.  Of 
those  who  have  journeyed  there,  scarcely  one,  perhaps, 
fails  to  look  back  with  fond  regret  to  his  horse  and  his 
rifle. 

Early  in  the  morning  after  we  reached  the  Platte,  a 
long  procession  of  squalid  savages  approached  our  camp. 
Each  was  on  foot,  leading  his  horse  by  a  rope  of  bull-hide. 
His  attire  consisted  merely  of  a  scanty  cincture,  and  an 
old  buffalo  robe,  tattered  and  begrimed  by  use,  which 
hung  over  his  shoulders.  His  head  was  close  shaven, 
except  a  ridge  of  hair  reaching  over  the  crown  from  the 
middle  of  the  forehead,  very  much  like  the  long  bristles 
on  the  back  of  a  hyena,  and  he  carried  his  bow  and 
arrows  in  his  hand,  while  his  meagre  little  horse  was 
laden  with  dried  buffalo  meat,  the  produce  of  his  hunting. 
Such  were  the  first  specimens  that  we  met  —  and  very 
indifferent  ones  they  were  —  of  the  genuine  savages  of 
the  prairie. 

They  were  the  Pawnees  whom  Kearsley  had  encoun 
tered  the  day  before,  and  belonged  to  a  large  hunting 
party,  known  to  be  ranging  the  prairie  in  the  vicinity. 
They  strode  rapidly  by,  within  a  furlong  of  our  tents,  not 
pausing  or  looking  towards  us,  after  the  manner  of  In- 
dians when  meditating  mischief,  or  conscious  of  ill  desert. 
I  went  out  to  meet  them,  and  had  an  amicable  conference 
with  the  chief,  presenting  him  with  half  a  pound  of 
tobacco,  at  which  unmerited  bounty  he  expressed  much 


THE  PLATTE  AND  THE  DESERT-       63 

gratification.  These  fellows,  or  some  of  their  com- 
panions, had  committed  a  dastardly  outrage  upon  an 
emigrant  party  in  advance  of  us.  Two  men,  at  a  dis- 
tance from  the  rest,  were  seized  by  them,  but,  lashing 
their  horses,  they  broke  away  and  fled.  At  this  the 
Pawnees  raised  the  yell  and  shot  at  them,  transfixing  the 
hindmost  through  the  back  with  several  arrows,  while  his 
companion  galloped  away  and  brought  in  the  news  to  his 
party.  The  panic-stricken  emigrants  remained  for  several 
days  in  camp,  not  daring  even  to  send  out  in  quest  of 
the  dead  body. 

Our  New-England  climate  is  mild  and  equable  com- 
pared with  that  of  the  Platte.  This  very  morning,  for 
instance,  was  close  and  sultry,  the  sun  rising  with  a  faint 
oppressive  heat ;  when  suddenly  darkness  gathered  in  the 
west,  and  a  furious  blast  of  sleet  and  hail  drove  full  in 
our  faces,  icy  cold,  and  urged  with  such  demoniac  vehe- 
mence that  it  felt  like  a  storm  of  needles.  It  was  curious 
to  see  the  horses ;  they  faced  about  in  extreme  dis- 
pleasure, holding  their  tails  like  whipped  dogs,  and  shiv- 
ering as  the  angry  gusts,  howling  louder  than  a  concert 
of  wolves,  swept  over  us.  Wright's  long  train  of  mules 
came  sweeping  round  before  the  storm,  like  a  flight  of 
snow-birds  driven  by  a  winter  tempest.  Thus  we  all 
remained  stationary  for  some  minutes,  crouching  close  to 
our  horses'  necks,  much  too  surly  to  speak,  though  once 
the  Captain  looked  up  from  between  the  collars  of  his 
coat,  his  face  blood-red,  and  the  muscles  of  his  mouth 
contracted  by  the  cold  into  a  most  ludicrous  grin  of 
agony.  He  grumbled  something  that  sounded  like  a 
curse,  directed,  as  we  believed,  against  the  unhappy  hour 
when  he  had  first  thought  of  leaving  home.  The  thing 
was  too  good  to  last  long ;  and  the  instant  the  puffs  of 
wind  subsided  we  pitched  our  tents,  and  remained  in 


64  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

camp  for  the  rest  of  a  gloomy  and  lowering  day.  The 
emigrants  also  encamped  near  at  hand.  We  being  first 
on  the  ground,  had  appropriated  all  the  wood  within 
reach ;  so  that  our  fire  alone  blazed  cheerily.  Around  it 
soon  gathered  a  group  of  uncouth  figures,  shivering  in 
the  drizzling  rain.  Conspicuous  among  them  were  two 
or  three  of  the  half-savage  men  who  spend  their  reckless 
lives  in  trapping  among  the  Rocky  Mountains,  or  in  trad- 
ing for  the  Fur  Company  in  the  Indian  villages.  They 
were  all  of  Canadian  extraction;  their  hard,  weather- 
beaten  faces  and  bushy  moustaches  looked  out  from 
beneath  the  hoods  of  their  white  capotes  with  a  bad  and 
brutish  expression,  as  if  their  owners  might  be  the  willing 
agents  of  any  villany.  And  such  in  fact  is  the  character 
of  many  of  these  men. 

On  the  day  following  we  overtook  Kearsley's  wagons, 
and  thenceforward,  for  a  week  or  two,  we  were  fellow- 
travellers.  One  good  effect,  at  least,  resulted  from  the 
alliance  ;  it  materially  diminished  the  fatigues  of  stand- 
ing guard ;  for  the  party  being  now  more  numerous,  there 
were  longer  intervals  between  each  man's  turns  of  duty. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  BUFFALO. 

days  on  the  Platte,  and  yet  no  buffalo  I  Last 
year's  signs  of  them  were  provokingly  abundant ; 
and  wood  being  extremely  scarce,  we  found  an  admirable 
substitute  in  the  lois  de  vache,  which  burns  like  peat,  pro- 
ducing no  unpleasant  effects.  The  wagons  one  morning 
had  left  the  camp ;  Shaw  and  I  were  already  on  horse- 
back, but  Henry  Chatillon  still  sat  cross-legged  by  the 
dead  embers  of  the  fire,  playing  pensively  with  the  lock 
of  his  rifle,  while  his  sturdy  Wyandot  pony  stood  quietly 
behind  him,  looking  over  his  head.  At  last  he  got  up, 
patted  the  neck  of  the  pony  (which,  from  an  exagger- 
ated appreciation  of  his  merits,  he  had  christened  "  Five 
Hundred  Dollar  "),  and  then  mounted,  with  a  melancholy 
air. 

''What  is  it,  Henry?" 

"  Ah,  I  feel  lonesome  ;  I  never  been  here  before  but  I 
see  away  yonder  over  the  buttes,  and  down  there  on  the 
prairie,  black  —  all  black  with  buffalo." 

In  the  afternoon  he  and  I  left  the  party  in  search  of 
an  antelope,  until,  at  the  distance  of  a  mile  or  two  on  the 
right,  the  tall  white  wagons  and  the  little  black  specks  of 
horsemen  were  just  visible,  so  slowly  advancing  that  they 
seemed  motionless ;  and  far  on  the  left  rose  the  broken 
line  of  scorched,  desolate  sand-hills.  The  vast  plain 
waved  with  tall  rank  grass,  that  swept  our  horses'  bellies; 

5 


66  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

it  swayed  to  and  fro  in  billows  with  the  light  breeze,  and 
far  and  near  antelope  and  wolves  were  moving  through 
it,  the  hairy  backs  of  the  latter  alternately  appearing  and 
disappearing  as  they  bounded  awkwardly  along ;  while  the 
antelope,  with  the  simple  curiosity  peculiar  to  them,  would 
often  approach  us  closely,  their  little  horns  and  white 
throats  just  visible  above  the  grass  tops,  as  they  gazed 
eagerly  at  us  with  their  round  black  eyes. 

I  dismounted,  and  amused  myself  with  firing  at  the 
wolves.  Henry  attentively  scrutinized  the  surrounding 
landscape ;  at  length  he  gave  a  shout,  and  called  on  me 
to  mount  again,  pointing  in  the  direction  of  the  sand- 
hills. A  mile  and  a  half  from  us  two  black  specks 
slowly  traversed  the  bare  glaring  face  of  one  of  them, 
and  disappeared  behind  the  summit.  "  Let  us  go  !  " 
cried  Henry,  belaboring  the  sides  of  "  Five  Hundred  Dol 
lar ; "  and  I  following  in  his  wake,  we  galloped  rapidly 
through  the  rank  grass  toward  the  base  of  the  hills. 

From  one  of  their  openings  descended  a  deep  ravine, 
widening  as  it  issued  on  the  prairie.  We  entered  it,  and 
galloping  up,  in  a  moment  were  surrounded  by  the  bleak 
sand-hills.  Half  of  their  steep  sides  were  bare  ;  the  rest 
were  scantily  clothed  with  clumps  of  grass,  and  various 
uncouth  plants,  conspicuous  among  which  appeared  the 
reptile-like  prickly-pear.  They  were  gashed  with  number- 
less ravines  ;  and  as  the  sky  had  suddenly  darkened,  and 
a  cold  gusty  wind  arisen,  the  strange  shrubs  and  the  dreary 
hills  looked  doubly  wild  and  desolate.  But  Henry's  face 
was  all  eagerness.  He  tore  off  a  little  hair  from  the 
piece  of  buffalo-robe  under  his  saddle,  and  threw  it  up,  to 
show  the  course  of  the  wind.  It  blew  directly  before  us. 
The  game  were  therefore  to  windward,  and  it  was  neces- 
sary to  make  our  best  speed  to  get  round  them. 

We  scrambled  from  this  ravine,  and,  galloping  away 


THE    BUFFALO.  67 

through  the  hollows,  soon  found  another,  winding  like  a 
snake  among  the  hills,  and  so  deep  that  it  completely 
concealed  us.  We  rode  up  the  bottom  of  it,  glancing 
through  the  bushes  at  its  edge,  till  Henry  abruptly  jerked 
his  rein,  and  slid  out  of  his  saddle.  Full  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  distant,  on  the  outline  of  the  farthest  hill,  a  long 
procession  of  buffalo  were  walking,  in  Indian  file,  with 
the  utmost  gravity  and  deliberation;  then  more  ap- 
peared, clambering  from  a  hollow  not  far  off,  and  ascend- 
ing, one  behind  the  other,  the  grassy  slope  of  another 
hill;  then  a  shaggy  head  and  a  pair  of  short  broken 
horns  issued  out  of  a  ravine  close  at  hand,  and  with  a 
slow,  stately  step,  one  by  one,  the  enormous  brutes  came 
into  view,  taking  their  way  across  the  valley,  whollj 
unconscious  of  an  enemy.  In  a  moment  Henry  was 
worming  his  way,  lying  flat  on  the  ground,  through  grass 
and  prickly-pears,  towards  his  unsuspecting  victims. 
He  had  with  him  both  my  rifle  and  his  own.  He  was 
soon  out  of  sight,  and  still  the  buffalo  kept  issuing  into 
the  valley.  For  a  long  time  all  was  silent ;  I  sat  hold- 
ing his  horse,  and  wondering  what  he  was  about,  when 
suddenly,  in  rapid  succession,  came  the  sharp  reports  of 
the  two  rifles,  and  the  whole  line  of  buffalo,  quickening 
their  pace  into  a  clumsy  trot,  gradually  disappeared  over 
the  ridge  of  the  hill.  Henry  rose  to  his  feet,  and  stood 
looking  after  them. 

"  You  have  missed  them,"  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  said  Henry ;  "  let  us  go."  He  descended  into 
the  ravine,  loaded  the  rifles,  and  mounted  his  horse. 

We  rode  up  the  hill  after  the  buffalo.  The  herd  was 
out  of  sight  when  we  reached  the  top,  but  lying  on  the 
grass,  not  far  off,  was  one  quite  lifeless,  and  another 
violently  struggling  in  the  death  agony. 

"  You  see  I  miss  him ! "  remarked  Henry.     He  had 


68  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

fired  from  a  distance  of  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty 
yards,  and  both  balls  had  passed  through  the  lungs,  the 
true  mark  in  shooting  buffalo. 

The  darkness  increased,  and  a  driving  storm  came  on. 
Tying  our  horses  to  the  horns  of  the  victims,  Henry  began 
the  bloody  work  of  dissection,  slashing  away  with  the 
science  of  a  connoisseur,  while  I  vainly  tried  to  imitate 
him.  Old  Hendrick  recoiled  with  horror  and  indignation 
when  I  endeavored  to  tie  the  meat  to  the  strings  of  raw 
hide,  always  carried  for  this  purpose,  dangling  at  the 
back  of  the  saddle.  After  some  difficulty  we  overcame 
his  scruples ;  and,  heavily  burdened  with  the  more  eligible 
portions  of  the  buffalo,  we  set  out  on  our  return.  Scarcely 
had  we  emerged  from  the  labyrinth  of  gorges  and  ravines, 
and  issued  upon  the  open  prairie,  when  the  prickling 
sleet  came  driving,  gust  upon  gust,  directly  in  our  faces. 
It  was  strangely  dark,  though  wanting  still  an  hour  of 
sunset.  The  freezing  storm  soon  penetrated  to  the  skin, 
but  the  uneasy  trot  of  our  heavy-gaited  horses  kept  us 
warm  enough,  as  we  forced  them  unwillingly  in  the  teeth 
of  the  sleet  and  rain,  by  the  powerful  suasion  of  our  In- 
dian whips.  The  prairie  in  this  place  was  hard  and  level. 
A  flourishing  colony  of  prairie-dogs  had  burrowed  into  it 
in  every  direction,  and  the  little  mounds  of  fresh  earth 
around  their  holes  were  about  as  numerous  as  the  hills  in 
a  corn-field ;  but  not  a  yelp  was  to  be  heard ;  not  the 
nose  of  a  single  citizen  was  visible ;  all  had  retired  to  the 
depths  of  their  burrows,  and  we  envied  them  their  dry 
and  comfortable  habitations.  An  hour's  hard  riding 
showed  us  our  tent  dimly  looming  through  the  storm,  one 
side  puffed  out  by  the  force  of  the  wind,  and  the  other 
collapsed  in  proportion,  while  the  disconsolate  horses 
stood  shivering  close  around,  and  the  wind  kept  up  a  dis- 
mal whistling  in  the  boughs  of  three  old  half -dead  trees 


THE   BUFFALO.  69 

above.  Shaw,  like  a  patriarch,  sat  on  his  saddle  in  the 
entrance,  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  his  arms  folded, 
contemplating,  with  cool  satisfaction,  the  piles  of  meat 
that  we  flung  on  the  ground  before  him.  A  dark  and 
dreary  night  succeeded ;  but  the  sun  rose,  with  a  heat  so 
sultry  and  languid  that  the  Captain  excused  himself  on 
that  account  from  waylaying  an  old  buffalo  bull,  who 
with  stupid  gravity  was  walking  over  the  prairie  to  drink 
at  the  river.  So  much  for  the  climate  of  the  Platte. 

But  it  was  not  the  weather  alone  that  had  produced 
this  sudden  abatement  of  the  sportsman-like  zeal  which 
the  Captain  had  always  professed.  He  had  been  out  on 
the  afternoon  before,  together  with  several  members  of 
his  party  :  but  their  hunting  was  attended  with  no  other 
result  than  the  loss  of  one  of  their  best  horses,  severely 
injured  by  Sorel,  in  vainly  chasing  a  wounded  bull.  The 
Captain,  whose  ideas  of  hard  riding  were  all  derived  from 
transatlantic  sources,  expressed  the  utmost  amazement 
at  the  feats  of  Sorel,  who  went  leaping  ravines,  and  dash- 
ing at  full  speed  up  and  down  the  sides"  of  precipitous 
hills,  lashing  his  horse  with  the  recklessness  of  a  Rocky 
Mountain  rider.  Unfortunately  for  the  poor  animal,  he 
was  the  property  of  R ,  against  whom  Sorel  enter- 
tained an  unbounded  aversion.  The  Captain  himself,  it 
seemed,  had  also  attempted  to  "run"  a  buffalo,  but 
though  a  good  and  practised  horseman,  he  had  soon  given 
over  the  attempt,  being  astonished  and  utterly  disgusted 
at  the  nature  of  the  ground  he  was  required  to  ride  over. 

"  Here's  old  Papin  and  Frederic,  down  from  Fort  Lar- 
amie,"  shouted  Henry,  as  we  returned  from  a  recon- 
noitring tour  on  the  next  morning.  We  had  for  some 
days  expected  this  encounter.  Papin  was  the  "bourgeois, 
or  "boss,"  of  Fort  Laramie.  He  had  come  down  the 
river  with  the  buffalo-robes  and  the  beaver,  the  produce 


70  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

of  the  last  winter's  trading.  I  had  among  our  baggage  a 
letter  which  I  wished  to  commit  to  their  hands ;  so  re- 
questing Henry  to  detain  the  boats  if  he  could  until  my 
return,  I  set  out  after  the  wagons.  They  were  about 
four  miles  in  advance.  In  half  an  hour  I  overtook  them, 
got  the  letter,  trotted  back  upon  the  trail,  and  looking 
carefully,  as  I  rode,  saw  a  patch  of  broken  storm-blasted 
trees,  and,  moving  near  them,  some  little  black  specks 
like  men  and  horses.  Arriving  at  the  place,  I  found  a 
strange  assembly.  The  boats,  eleven  in  number,  deep- 
laden  with  the  skins,  hugged  close  to  the  shore,  to  escape 
being  borne  down  by  the  swift  current.  The  rowers, 
swarthy  ignoble  Mexicans,  turned  their  brutish  faces 
upwards  to  look,  as  I  reached  the  bank.  Papin  sat  in  the 
middle  of  one  of  the  boats,  upon  the  canvas  covering  that 
protected  the  cargo.  He  was  a  stout,  robust  fellow,  with 
a  little  gray  eye,  that  had  a  peculiarly  sly  twinkle. 
"  Frederic,"  also,  stretched  his  tall  raw-boned  proportions 
close  by  the  bourgeois,  and  "  mountain  men  "  completed 
the  group :  some  lounging  in  the  boats,  some  strolling  on 
shore  ;  some  attired  in  gayly- painted  buffalo  robes,  like 
Indian  dandies ;  some  with  hair  saturated  with  red  paint, 
and  plastered  with  glue  to  their  temples;  and  one 
bedaubed  with  vermilion  upon  the  forehead  and  each 
cheek.  They  were  a  mongrel  race ;  yet  the  French  blood 
seemed  to  predominate  :  in  a  few,  indeed,  might  be  seen 
the  black  snaky  eye  of  the  Indian  half-breed,  and,  one 
and  all,  they  seemed  to  aim  at  assimilating  themselves 
to  their  red  associates. 

I  shook  hands  with  the  bourgeois,  and  delivered  the 
letter  :  then  the  boats  swung  round  in  to.  the  stream  and 
floated  away.  They  had  reason  for  haste,  for  already 
the  voyage  from  Fort  Laramie  had  occupied  a  full  month, 
and  the  river  was  growing  daily  more  shallow.  Fifty 


THE   BUFFALO.  71 

times  a  day  the  boats  had  been  aground ;  indeed,  those 
who  navigate  the  Platte  invariably  spend  half  their  time 
upon  sand-bars.  Two  of  these  boats,  the  property  of 
private  traders,  afterwards  separating  from  the  rest,  got 
hopelessly  involved  in  the  shallows,  not  very  far  from  the 
Pawnee  villages,  and  were  soon  surrounded  by  a  swarm 
of  the  inhabitants.  They  carried  off  every  thing  that 
they  thought  valuable,  including  most  of  the  robes ;  and 
amused  themselves  by  tying  up  the  men  left  on  guard, 
and  soundly  whipping  them  with  sticks. 

We  encamped  that  night  upon  the  bank  of  the  river. 
Among  the  emigrants  was  an  overgrown  boy,  some 
eighteen  years  old,  with  a  head  as  round  and  about  as 
large  as  a  pumpkin,  and  fever-and-ague  fits  had  dyed  his 
face  of  a  corresponding  color.  He  wore  an  old  white  hat, 
tied  under  his  chin  with  a  handkerchief ;  his  body  was 
short  and  stout,  but  his  legs  were  of  disproportioned  and 
appalling  length.  I  observed  him  at  sunset,  breasting 
the  hill  with  gigantic  strides,  and  standing  against  the 
sky  on  the  summit,  like  a  colossal  pair  of  tongs.  In  a 
moment  after  we  heard  him  screaming  frantically  behind 
the  ridge,  and  nothing  doubting  that  he  was  in  the 
clutches  of  Indians  or  grizzly  bears,  some  of  the  party 
caught  up  their  rifles  and  ran  to  the  rescue.  His  out- 
cries, however,  were  but  an  ebullition  of  joyous  excite- 
ment ;  he  had  chased  two  wolf  pups  to  their  burrow,  and 
was  on  his  knees,  grubbing  away  like  a  dog  at  the  mouth 
of  the  hole,  to  get  at  them. 

Before  morning  he  caused  more  serious  disquiet  In  the 
camp.  It  was  his  turn  to  hold  the  middle-guard ;  but  no 
sooner  was  he  called  up  than  he  coolly  arranged  a  pair 
of  saddle-bags  under  a  wagon,  laid  his  head  upon  them, 
closed  his  eyes,  opened  his  mouth,  and  fell  asleep.  The 
guard  on  our  side  of  the  camp,  thinking  it  no  part  of  his 


72  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

duty  to  look  after  the  cattle  of  the  emigrants,  contented 
himself  with  watching  our  own  horses  and  mules ;  the 
wolves,  he  said,  were  unusually  noisy  ;  but  still  no  mis- 
chief was  anticipated  until  the  sun  rose,  when  not  a  hoof 
or  horn  was  in  sight.  The  cattle  were  gone.  While 
Tom  was  quietly  slumbering,  the  wolves  had  driven 
them  away. 

Then  we  reaped  the  fruits  of  R 's  precious  plan 

of  travelling  in  company  with  emigrants.  To  leave  them 
in  their  distress  was  not  to  be  thought  of,  and  we  felt 
bound  to  wait  until  the  cattle  could  be  searched  for,  and, 
if  possible,  recovered.  But  the  reader  may  be  curious  to 
know  what  punishment  awaited  the  faithless  Tom.  By 
the  wholesome  law  of  the  prairie,  he  who  falls  asleep  on 
guard  is  condemned  to  walk  all  day,  leading  his  horse  by 
the  bridle ;  and  we  found  much  fault  with  our  companions 
for  not  enforcing  such  a  sentence  on  the  offender.  Never- 
theless, had  he  been  of  our  own  party,  I  have  no  doubt 
that  he  would  in  like  manner  have  escaped  scot-free. 
But  the  emigrants  went  farther  than  mere  forbearance ; 
they  decreed  that  since  Tom  couldn't  stand  guard  without 
falling  asleep,  he  shouldn't  stand  guard  at  all,  and  hence- 
forward his  slumbers  were  unbroken.  Establishing  such 
a  premium  on  drowsiness  could  have  no  very  beneficial 
effect  upon  the  vigilance  of  our  sentinels ;  for  it  is  far 
from  agreeable,  after  riding  from  sunrise  to  sunset,  to 
feel  your  slumbers  interrupted  by  the  but  of  a  rifle  nudg- 
ing your  side,  and  a  sleepy  voice  growling  in  your  ear 
that  you  must  get  up,  to  shiver  and  freeze  for  three 
weary  hours  at  midnight. 

"  Buffalo  !  buffalo  !  "  It  was  but  a  grim  old  bull, 
roaming  the  prairie  by  himself  in  misanthropic  seclusion; 
but  there  might  be  more  behind  the  hills.  Dreading  the 
monotony  and  languor  of  the  camp,  Shaw  and  I  saddled 


THE    BUFFALO.  73 

our  horses,  buckled  our  holsters  in  their  places,  and  set 
out  with  Henry  Chatillon  in  search  of  the  game.  Henry, 
not  intending  to  take  part  in  the  chase,  but  merely 
conducting  us,  carried  his  rifle  with  him,  while  we  left 
ours  behind  as  incumbrances.  We  rode  for  some  five  or 
six  miles,  and  saw  no  living  thing  but  wolves,  snakes, 
and  prairie-dogs. 

"  This  won't  do  at  all,"  said  Shaw. 

"  What  won't  do  ?  " 

"  There's  no  wood  about  here  to  make  a  litter  for  the 
wounded  man  :  I  have  an  idea  that  one  of  us  will  need 
something  of  the  sort  before  the  day  is  over." 

There  was  some  foundation  for  such  an  idea,  for  the 
ground  was  none  of  the  best  for  a  race,  and  grew  worse 
continually  as  we  proceeded;  indeed,  it  soon  became 
desperately  bad,  consisting  of  abrupt  hills  and  deep 
hollows,  cut  by  frequent  ravines  not  easy  to  pass.  At 
length,  a  mile  in  advance,  we  saw  a  band  of  bulls. 
Some  were  scattered  grazing  over  a  green  declivity, 
while  the  rest  were  crowded  together  in  the  wide  hollow 
below.  Making  a  circuit,  to  keep  out  of  sight,  we  rode 
towards  them,  until  we  ascended  a  hill,  within  a  furlong 
of  them,  beyond  which  nothing  intervened  that  could  pos- 
sibly screen  us  from  their  view.  We  dismounted  behind 
the  ridge,  just  out  of  sight,  drew  our  saddle-girths,  exam- 
ined our  pistols,  and  mounting  again,  rode  over  the  hill, 
and  descended  at  a  canter  towards  them,  bending  close  to 
our  horses'  necks.  Instantly  they  took  the  alarm :  those 
on  the  hill  descended,  those  below  gathered  into  a  mass,  and 
the  whole  got  into  motion,  shouldering  each  other  along 
at  a  clumsy  gallop.  We  followed,  spurring  our  horses  to 
full  speed ;  and  as  the  herd  rushed,  crowding  and  tramp- 
ling in  terror  through  an  opening  in  the  hills,  we  were 
close  at  their  heels,  half  suffocated  by  the  clouds  of  dust, 


74  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

But  as  we  drew  near,  their  alarm  and  speed  increased ; 
our  horses,  being  new  to  the  work,  showed  signs  of  the 
utmost  fear,  bounding  violently  aside  as  we  approached, 
and  refusing  to  enter  among  the  herd.  The  buffalo  now 
broke  into  several  small  bodies,  scampering  over  the  hills 
in  different  directions,  and  I  lost  sight  of  Shaw  ;  neither 
of  us  knew  where  the  other  had  gone.  Old  Pontiac  ran 
like  a  frantic  elephant  up  hill  and  down  hill,  his  ponder- 
ous hoofs  striking  the  prairie  like  sledge-hammers.  He 
showed  a  curious  mixture  of  eagerness  and  terror,  strain- 
ing to  overtake  the  panic-stricken  herd,  but  constantly 
recoiling  in  dismay  as  we  drew  near.  The  fugitives, 
indeed,  offered  no  very  attractive  spectacle,  with  their 
shaggy  manes  and  the  tattered  remnants  of  their  last 
winter's  hair  covering  their  backs  in  irregular  shreds  and 
patches,  and  flying  off  in  the  wind  as  they  ran.  At  length 
I  urged  my  horse  close  behind  a  bull,  and  after  trying  in 
vain,  by  blows  and  spurring,  to  bring  him  alongside,  I 
fired  from  this  disadvantageous  position.  At  the  report 
Pontiac  swerved  so  much  that  I  was  again  thrown  a 
little  behind  the  game.  The  bullet,  entering  too  much 
in  the  rear,  failed  to  disable  the  bull;  for  a  buffalo 
requires  to  be  shot  at  particular  points,  or  he  will  cer- 
tainly escape.  The  herd  ran  up  a  hill,  and  I  followed  in 
pursuit.  As  Pontiac  rushed  headlong  down  on  the  other 
side,  I  saw  Shaw  and  Henry  descending  the  hollow  on 
the  right,  at  a  leisurely  gallop ;  and  in  front,  the  buffalo 
were  just  disappearing  behind  the  crest  of  the  next  hill, 
their  short  tails  erect,  and  their  hoofs  twinkling  through 
a  cloud  of  dust. 

At  that  moment  I  heard  Shaw  and  Henry  shouting  to 
me  ;  but  the  muscles  of  a  stronger  arm  than  mine  could 
not  have  checked  at  once  the  furious  course  of  Pontiac, 
whose  mouth  was  as  insensible  as  leather.  Added  to  this, 


THE    BUFFALO.  75 

I  rode  him  that  morning  with  a  snaffle,  having  the  day 
before,  for  the  benefit  of  my  other  horse,  unbuckled  from 
my  bridle  the  curb  which  I  commonly  used.  A  stronger 
and  hardier  brute  never  trod  the  prairie ;  but  the  novel 
sight  of  the  buffalo  filled  him  with  terror,  and  when  at 
full  speed  he  was  almost  incontrollable.  Gaining  the  top 
of  the  ridge,  I  saw  nothing  of  the  buffalo ;  they  had  all 
vanished  amid  the  intricacies  of  the  hills  and  hollows. 
Reloading  my  pistols,  in  the  best  way  I  could,  I  galloped 
on  until  I  saw  them  again  scuttling  along  at  the  base  of 
the  hill,  their  panic  somewhat  abated.  Down  went  old 
Pontiac  among  them,  scattering  them  to  the  right  and 
left ;  and  then  we  had  another  long  chase.  About  a  dozen 
bulls  were  before  us,  scouring  over  the  hills,  rushing  down 
the  declivities  with  tremendous  weight  and  impetuosity, 
and  then  laboring  with  a  weary  gallop  upward.  Still 
Pontiac,  in  spite  of  spurring  and  beating,  would  not  close 
with  them.  One  bull  at  length  fell  a  little  behind  the 
rest,  and  by  dint  of  much  effort,  I  urged  my  horse  within 
six  or  eight  yards  of  his  side.  His  back  was  darkened 
with  sweat :  he  was  panting  heavily,  while  his  tongue 
lolled  out  a  foot  from  his  jaws.  Gradually  I  came  up 
abreast  of  him,  urging  Pontiac  with  leg  and  rein  nearer  to 
his  side,  when  suddenly  he  did  what  buffalo  in  such  cir- 
cumstances will  always  do :  he  slackened  his  gallop,  and 
turning  towards  us,  with  an  aspect  of  mingled  rage  and 
distress,  lowered  his  huge,  shaggy  head  for  a  charge. 
Pontiac,  with  a  snort,  leaped  aside  in  terror,  nearly  throw- 
ing me  to  the  ground,  as  I  was  wholly  unprepared  for 
such  an  evolution.  I  raised  my  pistol  in  a  passion  to 
strike  him  on  the  head,  bat  thinking  better  of  it,  fired  the 
bullet  after  the  bull,  who  had  resumed  his  flight;  then  drew 
rein,  and  determined  to  rejoin  my  companions.  It  was 
high  time.  The  breath  blew  hard  from  Pontiac's  nostrils, 


76  THE   OREGON    TRAIL. 

and  the  sweat  rolled  in  big  drops  down  his  sides ;  I  my- 
self felt  as  if  drenched  in  warm  water.  Pledging  myself 
to  take  my  revenge  at  a  future  opportunity,  I  looked  about 
for  some  indications  to  show  me  where  I  was,  and  what 
course  I  ought  to  pursue ;  I  might  as  well  have  looked 
for  landmarks  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean.  How  many 
miles  I  had  run,  or  in  what  direction,  I  had  no  idea ;  and 
around  me  the  prairie  was  rolling  in  steep  swells  and 
pitches,  without  a  single  distinctive  feature  to  guide  me. 
I  had  a  little  compass  hung  at  my  neck ;  and  ignorant, 
that  the  Platte  at  this  point  diverged  considerably  from 
its  easterly  course,  I  thought  that  by  keeping  to  the  north- 
ward I  should  certainly  reach  it.  So  I  turned  and  rode 
about  two  hours  in  that  direction.  The  prairie  changed  as 
I  advanced,  softening  away  into  easier  undulations,  but 
nothing  like  the  Platte  appeared,  nor  any  sign  of  a  human 
being :  the  same  wild  endless  expanse  lay  around  me  still; 
and  to  all  appearance  I  was  as  far  from  my  object  as  ever. 
I  began  now  to  think  myself  in  danger  of  being  lost, 
and,  reining  in  my  horse,  summoned  the  scanty  share  of 
woodcraft  that  I  possessed  (if  that  term  is  applicable  upon 
the  prairie)  to  extricate  me.  It  occurred  to  me  that  the 
buffalo  might  prove  my  best  guides.  I  soon  found  one  of 
the  paths  made  by  them  in  their  passage  to  the  river :  it 
ran  nearly  at  right  angles  to  my  course ;  but  turning  my 
horse's  head  in  the  direction  it  indicated,  his  freer  gait 
and  erected  ears  assured  me  that  I  was  right. 

But  in  the  mean  time  my  ride  had  been  by  no  means 
a  solitary  one.  The  face  of  the  country  was  dotted  far 
and  wide  with  [countless  hundreds  of  buffalo.  They 
trooped  along  in  files  and  columns,  bulls,  cows,  and 
calves,  on  the  green  faces  of  the  declivities  in  front.  They 
scrambled  away  over  the  hills  to  the  right  and  left ;  and 
far  off,  the  pale  blue  swells  in  the  extreme  distance  were 


THE   BUFFALO.  77 

dotted  with  innumerable  specks.  Sometimes  I  surprised 
shaggy  old  bulls  grazing  alone,  or  sleeping  behind  the 
ridges  I  ascended.  They  would  leap  up  at  my  approach, 
stare  stupidly  at  me  through  their  tangled  manes,  and 
then  gallop  heavily  away.  The  antelope  were  very  nu- 
merous ;  and  as  they  are  always  bold  when  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  buffalo,  they  would  approach  to  look  at  me, 
gaze  intently  with  their  great  round  eyes,  then  suddenly 
leap  aside,  and  stretch  lightly  away  over  the  prairie,  as 
swiftly  as  a  race-horse.  Squalid,  ruffian-like  wolves 
sneaked  through  the  hollows  and  sandy  ravines.  Several 
times  I  passed  through  villages  of  prairie-dogs,  who  sat, 
each  at  the  mouth  of  his  burrow,  holding  his  paws  before 
him  in  a  supplicating  attitude,  and  yelping  away  most 
vehemently,  whisking  his  little  tail  with  every  squeak- 
ing cry  he  uttered.  Prairie-dogs  are  not  fastidious  in 
their  choice  of  companions;  various  long  checkered 
snakes  were  sunning  themselves  in  the  midst  of  the  vil- 
lage, and  demure  little  gray  owls,  with  a  large  white  ring 
around  each  eye,  were  perched  side  by  side  with  the  right- 
ful inhabitants.  The  prairie  teemed  with  life.  Again 
and  again  I  looked  toward  the  crowded  hill-sides,  and  was 
sure  I  saw  horsemen ;  and  riding  near,  with  a  mixture  of 
hope  and  dread,  for  Indians  were  abroad,  I  found  them 
transformed  into  a  group  of  buffalo.  There  was  nothing 
in  human  shape  amid  all  this  vast  congregation  of  brute 
forms. 

When  I  turned  down  the  buffalo  path,  the  prairie 
seemed  changed;  only  a  wolf  or  two  glided  by  at  in- 
tervals, like  conscious  felons,  never  looking  to  the  right 
or  left.  Being  now  free  from  anxiety,  I  was  at  leisure  to 
observe  minutely  the  objects  around  me ;  and  here,  for 
the  first  time,  I  noticed  insects  wholly  different  from  any 
of  the  varieties  found  farther  to  the  eastward. 


78  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

butterflies  fluttered  about  my  horse's  head;  strangely 
formed  beetles,  glittering  with  metallic  lustre,  were  crawl- 
ing upon  plants  that  I  had  never  seen  before  ;  multitudes 
of  lizards,  too,  were  darting  like  lightning  over  the 
sand. 

I  had  run  to  a  great  distance  from  the  river.  It  cost 
me  a  long  ride  on  the  buffalo  path,  before  I  saw,  from  the 
ridge  of  a  sand-hill,  the  pale  surface  of  the  Platte  glisten- 
ing in  the  midst  of  its  desert  valley,  and  the  faint  outline 
of  the  hills  beyond  waving  along  the  sky.  From  where  I 
stood,  not  a  tree  nor  a  bush  nor  a  living  thing  was  visible 
throughout  the  whole  extent  of  the  sun-scorched  land- 
scape. In  half  an  hour  I  came  upon  the  trail,  not  far 
from  the  river ;  and  seeing  that  the  party  had  not  yet 
passed,  I  turned  eastward  to  meet  them,  old  Pontiac's 
long  swinging  trot  again  assuring  me  that  I  was  right 
in  doing  so.  Having  been  slightly  ill  on  leaving  camp 
in  the  morning,  six  or  seven  hours  of  rough  riding  had 
fatigued  me  extremely.  I  soon  stopped,  therefore,  flung 
my  saddle  on  the  ground,  and  with  my  head  resting  on  it, 
and  my  horse's  trail-rope  tied  loosely  to  my  arm,  lay  wait- 
ing the  arrival  of  the  party,  speculating  meanwhile  on 
the  extent  of  the  injuries  Pontiac  had  received.  At  length 
the  white  wagon  coverings  rose  from  the  verge  of  the 
plain.  By  a  singular  coincidence,  almost  at  the  same 
moment  two  horsemen  appeared  coming  down  from  the 
hills.  They  were  Shaw  and  Henry,  who  had  searched  for 
me  awhile  in  the  morning,  but  well  knowing  the  futility 
of  the  attempt  in  such  a  broken  country,  had  placed  them- 
selves on  the  top  of  the  highest  hill  they  could  find,  and 
picketing  their  horses  near  them,  as  a  signal  to  me,  had 
lain  down  and  fallen  asleep.  The  stray  cattle  had  been 
recovered,  as  the  emigrants  told  us,  about  noon.  Before 
sunset,  we  pushed  forward  eight  miles  farther. 


THE   BUFFALO.  79 

"  JUNK  7, 1846.  —  Four  men  are  missing:  R ,  Sorel,  and  two 

emigrants.     They  set  out  this  morning  after  buffalo,  and  have  not 
yet  made  their  appearance ;  whether  killed  or  lost,  we  cannot  tell." 

I  find  the  above  in  my  note-book,  and  well  remember 
the  council  held  on  the  occasion.  Our  fire  was  the  scene 
of  it ;  for  the  superiority  of  Henry  Chatillon's  experience 
and  skill  made  him  the  resort  of  the  whole  camp  upon 
every  question  of  difficulty.  He  was  moulding  bullets  at 
the  fire,  when  the  Captain  drew  near,  with  a  perturbed 
and  care-worn  expression  of  countenance,  faithfully  re- 
flected on  the  heavy  features  of  Jack,  who  followed  close 
behind.  Then  the  emigrants  came  straggling  from  their 
wagons  towards  the  common  centre.  Various  sugges- 
tions were  made,  to  account  for  the  absence  of  the  four 
men,  and  one  or  two  of  the  emigrants  declared  that, 
when  out  after  the  cattle,  they  had  seen  Indians  dogging 
them,  and  crawling  like  wolves  along  the  ridges  of  the 
hills.  At  this  the  Captain  slowly  shook  his  head  with 
double  gravity,  and  solemnly  remarked,  — 

"  It's  a  serious  thing  to  be  travelling  through  this 
cursed  wilderness ;  "  an  opinion  in  which  Jack  immedi- 
ately expressed  a  thorough  coincidence.  Henry  would 
not  commit  himself  by  declaring  any  positive  opinion. 

"  Maybe  he  only  followed  the  buffalo  too  far ;  maybe 
Indian  kill  him ;  maybe  he  got  lost ;  I  cannot  tell." 

With  this  the  auditors  were  obliged  to  rest  content ; 
the  emigrants,  not  in  the  least  alarmed,  though  curious 
to  know  what  had  become  of  their  comrades,  walked 
back  to  their  wagons,  and  the  Captain  betook  himself 
pensively  to  his  tent.  Shaw  and  I  followed  his  example. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

TAKING  FRENCH   LEAVE. 

ON  the  eighth  of  June,  at  eleven  o'clock,  we  reached 
the  South  Fork  of  the  Platte,  at  the  usual  fording- 
place.  For  league  upon  league  the  desert  uniformity  of 
the  prospect  was  almost  unbroken ;  the  hills  were  dotted 
with  little  tufts  of  shrivelled  grass,  but  betwixt  these  the 
white  sand  was  glaring  in  the  sun ;  and  the  channel  of 
the  river,  almost  on  a  level  with  the  plain,  was  but  one 
great  sand-bed,  about  half  a  mile  wide.  It  was  covered 
with  water,  but  so  scantily  that  the  bottom  was  scarcely 
hidden ;  for,  wide  as  it  is,  the  average  depth  of  the  Platte 
does  not  at  this  point  exceed  a  foot  and  a  half.  Stopping 
near  its  bank,  we  gathered  lois  de  vache,  and  made  a 
meal  of  buffalo-meat.  Far  off,  on  the  other  side,  was  a 
green  meadow,  where  we  could  see  the  white  tents  and 
wagons  of  an  emigrant  camp ;  and  just  opposite  to  us  we 
could  discern  a  group  of  men  and  animals  at  the  water's 
edge.  Four  or  five  horsemen  soon  entered  the  river,  and 
in  ten  minutes  had  waded  across  and  clambered  up  the 
loose  sand-bank.  They  were  ill-looking  fellows,  thin  and 
swarthy,  with  care-worn  anxious  faces,  and  lips  rigidly 
compressed.  They  had  good  cause  for  anxiety ;  it  was 
three  days  since  they  first  encamped  here,  and  on  the 
night  of  their  arrival  they  had  lost  a  hundred  and  twenty- 
three  of  their  best  cattle,  driven  off  by  the  wolves,  through 
the  neglect  of  the  man  on  guard.  This  discouraging  and 


TAKING    FKENCH    LEAVE.  81 

alarming  calamity  was  not  the  first  that  had  overtaken 
them.  Since  leaving  the  settlements  they  had  met  with 
nothing  but  misfortune.  Some  of  their  party  had  died ; 
one  man  had  been  killed  by  the  Pawnees  ;  and  about  a 
week  before  they  had  been  plundered  by  the  Dahcotahs 
of  all  their  best  horses,  the  wretched  animals  on  which 
our  visitors  were  mounted  being  the  only  ones  that  were 
left.  They  had  encamped,  they  told  us,  near  sunset,  by 
the  side  of  the  Platte,  and  their  oxen  were  scattered  over 
the  meadow,  while  the  horses  were  feeding  a  little  farther 
off.  Suddenly  the  ridges  of  the  hills  were  alive  with  a 
swarm  of  mounted  Indians,  at  least  six  hundred  in  num- 
ber, who  came  pouring  with  a  yell  down  towards  the  camp, 
rushing  up  within  a  few  rods,  to  the  great  terror  of  the 
emigrants  ;  when,  suddenly  wheeling,  they  swept  around 
the  band  of  horses,  and  in  five  minutes  disappeared  with 
their  prey  through  the  openings  of  the  hills. 

As  these  emigrants  were  telling  their  story,  we  saw 

tour  other  men  approaching.  They  proved  to  be  R • 

and  his  companions,  who  had  encountered  no  mischance 
of  any  kind,  but  had  only  wandered  too  far  in  pursuit  of 
the  game.  They  said  they  had  seen  no  Indians,  but  only 

"  millions  of  buffalo  ; "  and  both  R and  Sorel  had 

meat  dangling  behind  their  saddles. 

The  emigrants  recrossed  the  river,  and  we  prepared  to 
follow.  First  the  heavy  ox-wagons  plunged  down  the 
bank,  and  dragged  slowly  over  the  sand-beds ;  sometimes 
the  hoofs  of  the  oxen  were  scarcely  wet  by  the  thin  sheet 
of  water ;  and  the  next  moment  the  river  would  be  boil- 
ing against  their  sides,  and  eddying  around  the  wheels. 
Inch  by  inch  they  receded  from  the  shore,  dwindling 
every  moment,  until  at  length  they  seemed  to  be  floating 
far  out  in.  the  middle  of  the  river.  A  more  critical  ex- 
periment awaited  us  ;  for  our  little  mule-cart  was  ill-fitted 

i 


82  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

for  the  passage  of  so  swift  a  stream.  We  watched  it  with 
anxiety,  till  it  seemed  a  motionless  white  speck  in  the 
midst  of  the  waters ;  and  it  was  motionless,  for  it  had 
stuck  fast  in  a  quicksand.  The  mules  were  losing  their 
footing,  the  wheels  were  sinking  deeper  and  deeper,  and 
the  water  began  to  rise  through  the  bottom  and  drench 
the  goods  within.  All  of  us  who  had  remained  on  the 
hither  bank  galloped  to  the  rescue  ;  the  men  jumped  into 
the  water,  adding  their  strength  to  that  of  the  mules,  until 
by  much  effort  the  cart  was  extricated,  and  conveyed  in 
safety  across. 

As  we  gained  the  other  bank,  a  rough  group  of  men 
surrounded  us.  They  were  not  robust,  nor  large  of  frame, 
yet  they  had  an  aspect  of  hardy  endurance.  Finding  at 
home  no  scope  for  their  energies,  they  had  betaken  them- 
selves to  the  prairie ;  and  in  them  seemed  to  be  revived, 
with  redoubled  force,  that  fierce  spirit  which  impelled 
their  ancestors,  scarcely  more  lawless  than  themselves, 
from  the  German  forests,  to  inundate  Europe,  and  over- 
whelm the  Roman  empire.  A  fortnight  afterwards  thii 
unfortunate  party  passed  Fort  Laramie,  while  we  were 
there.  Not  one  of  their  missing  oxen  had  been  recovered, 
though  they  had  remained  encamped  a  week  in  search  of 
them  ;  and  they  had  been  compelled  to  abandon  a  great 
part  of  their  baggage  and  provisions,  and  yoke  cows  and 
heifers  to  their  wagons  to  carry  them  forward  upon  their 
journey,  the  most  toilsome  and  hazardous  part  of  which 
lay  still  before  them. 

It  is  worth  noticing  that  on  the  Platte  one  may  some- 
time see  the  shattered  wrecks  of  ancient  claw-footed 
tables,  well  waxed  and  rubbed,  or  massive  bureaus  of 
carved  oak.  These,  some  of  them  no  doubt  the  relics  of 
ancestral  prosperity  in  the  colonial  time,  must  have  en- 
countered strange  vicissitudes.  Brought,  perhaps,  origin- 


TAKING  FRENCH  LEAVE.          83 

ally  from  England ;  then,  with  the  declining  fortunes  of 
their  owners,  borne  across  the  Alleghanies  to  the  wilder- 
ness of  Ohio  or  Kentucky ;  then  to  Illinois  or  Missouri ; 
and  now  at  last  fondly  stowed  away  in  the  family  wagon 
for  the  interminable  journey  to  Oregon.  But  the  stern 
privations  of  the  way  are  little  anticipated.  The  cher- 
ished relic  is  soon  flung  out  to  scorch  and  crack  upon 
the  hot  prairie. 

We  resumed  our  journey ;  but  we  had  gone  scarcely  a 
mile,  when  R called  out  from  the  rear,  — 

"  We'll  'camp  here." 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  'camp  ?  Look  at  the  sun.  It 
is  not  three  o'clock  yet." 

"We'H'camphere!" 

This  was  the  only  reply  vouchsafed.  Deslauriers  was 
in  advance  with  his  cart.  Seeing  the  mule-wagon 
wheeling  from  the  track,  he  began  to  turn  his  own  team 
in  the  same  direction. 

"  Go  on,  Deslauriers ; "  and  the  little  cart  advanced 
again.  As  we  rode  on,  we  soon  heard  the  wagon  of  our 
confederates  creaking  and  jolting  behind  us,  and  the 
driver,  Wright,  discharging  a  furious  volley  of  oaths 
against  his  mules ;  no  doubt  venting  upon  them  the 
wrath  which  he  dared  not  direct  against  a  more  appro* 
priate  object. 

Something  of  this  sort  had  frequently  occurred.  Ou* 
English  companion  was  by  no  means  partial  to  us,  and 
we  thought  we  discovered  in  his  conduct  an  intention  to 
thwart  and  annoy  us,  especially  by  retarding  the  move- 
ments of  the  party,  which  he  knew  that  we  were  anxious 
to  quicken.  Therefore  he  would  insist  on  encamping  at 
all  unseasonable  hours,  saying  that  fifteen  miles  was  a 
sufficient  day's  journey.  Finding  our  wishes  disregarded, 
we  took  the  direction  of  affairs  into  our  own  hands. 


84  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

Keeping  always  in  advance,  to  the  inexpressible  indigna- 
tion of  R ,  we  encamped  at  what  time  and  place  we 

thought  proper,  not  much  caring  whether  the  rest  chose 
to  follow  or  not.  They  always  did  so,  however,  pitching 
their  tent  near  ours,  with  sullen  and  wrathful  counte- 
nances. 

Travelling  together  on  these  terms  did  not  suit  our 
tastes,  and  for  some  time  we  had  meditated  a  separation. 
We  resolved  to  leave  camp  early  in  the  morning,  and 
push  forward  as  rapidly  as  possible  for  Fort  Laramie, 
which  we  hoped  to  reach,  by  hard  travelling,  in  four  or 
five  days.  The  Captain  soon  trotted  up  between  us,  and 
we  explained  our  intentions. 

"  A  very  extraordinary  proceeding,  upon  my  word !  " 
he  remarked.  The  most  prominent  impression  in  his 
mind  evidently  was,  that  we  were  deserting  his  party,  in 
what  he  regarded  as  a  very  dangerous  stage  of  the  jour- 
ney. We  ventured  to  suggest  that  we  were  only  four  in 
number,  while  his  party  still  included  sixteen  men ;  and 
as  we  were  to  go  forward  and  they  were  to  follow,  a  full 
proportion  of  the  perils  he  apprehended  would  fall  upon 
us.  But  the  austerity  of  the  Captain's  features  would 
not  relax.  "  A  very  extraordinary  proceeding,  gentle- 
men ! "  and  repeating  this,  he  rode  off  to  confer  with 
his  principal. 

Before  sunrise  on  the  next  morning  our  tent  was  down, 
we  harnessed  our  best  horses  to  the  cart  and  left  the 
camp.  But  first  we  shook  hands  with  our  friends  the 
emigrants,  who  sincerely  wished  us  a  safe  journey,  though 
some  others  of  the  party  might  easily  have  been  consoled 
had  we  encountered  an  Indian  war-party  on  the  way.  The 
Captain  and  his  brother  were  standing  on  the  top  of  a  hill, 
wrapped  in  their  plaids,  like  spirits  of  the  mist,  keeping 
an  anxious  eye  on  the  band  of  horses  below.  We  waved 


TAKING   FRENCH   LEAVE.  85 

adieu  to  them  as  we  rode  off  the  ground.  The  Captain 
replied  with  a  salutation  of  the  utmost  dignity,  which 
Jack  tried  to  imitate,  though  not  with  perfect  success. 

In  five  minutes  we  had  gained  the  foot  of  the  hills,  but 
here  we  came  to  a  stop.  Hendrick  was  in  the  shafts,  and 
being  the  incarnation  of  perverse  and  brutish  obstinacy, 
he  utterly  refused  to  move.  Deslauriers  lashed  and  swore 
till  he  was  tired,  but  Hendrick  stood  like  a  rock,  grumbling 
to  himself  and  looking  askance  at  his  enemy,  until  he  saw 
a  favorable  opportunity  to  take  his  revenge,  when  he  struck 
out  under  the  shaft  with  such  cool  malignity  of  intention 
that  Deslauriers  only  escaped  the  blow  by  a  sudden  skip 
into  the  air,  such  as  no  one  but  a  Frenchman  could  achieve. 
Shaw  and  he  then  joined  forces,  and  lashed  on  both  sides 
at  once.  The  brute  stood  still  for  a  while,  till  he  could 
bear  it  no  longer,  when  he  began  to  kick  and  plunge  till 
he  threatened  the  utter  demolition  of  the  cart  and  harness. 
We  glanced  back  at  the  camp,  which  was  in  full  sight. 
Our  companions,  inspired  by  emulation,  were  levelling 
their  tents  and  driving  in  their  cattle  and  horses. 

"  Take  the  horse  out,"  said  I. 

I  took  the  saddle  from  Pontiac  and  put  it  upon  Hen- 
drick ;  the  former  was  harnessed  to  the  cart  in  an  instant. 
"  Avance  done  I "  cried  Deslauriers.  Pontiac  strode  up 
the  hill,  twitching  the  little  cart  after  him  as  if  it  were  a 
feather's  weight ;  and  though,  as  we  gained  the  top,  we 
saw  the  wagons  of  our  deserted  comrades  just  getting  into 
motion,  we  had  little  fear  that  they  could  overtake  us. 

Leaving  the  trail,  we  struck  directly  across  the  country, 
and  took  the  shortest  cut  to  reach  the  main  stream  of  the 
Platte.  A  deep  ravine  suddenly  intercepted  us.  We 
skirted  its  sides  until  we  found  them  less  abrupt,  and 
then  plunged  through  in  the  best  way  we  could.  Passing 
behind  the  sandy  ravines  called  "Ash  Hollow,"  we  stopped 


86  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

for  a  short  nooning  at  the  side  of  a  pool  of  rain-water; 
but  soon  resumed  our  journey,  and  some  hours  before 
sunset  descended  the  ravines  and  gorges  opening  down- 
ward upon  the  Platte  west  of  Ash  Hollow.  Our  horses 
waded  to  the  fetlock  in  sand ;  the  sun  scorched  like  fire, 
and  the  air  swarmed  with  sand-flies  and  mosquitoes. 

At  last  we  gained  the  Platte.  Following  it  for  about 
five  miles,  we  saw,  just  as  the  sun  was  sinking,  a  great 
meadow,  dotted  with  hundreds  of  cattle,  and  beyond  them 
an  encampment  of  emigrants.  A  party  of  them  came  out 
to  meet  us,  looking  upon  us  at  first  with  cold  and  suspi- 
cious faces.  Seeing  four  men, different  in  appearance  and 
equipment  from  themselves,  emerging  from  the  hills,  they 
had  taken  us  for  the  van  of  the  much-dreaded  Mormons, 
whom  they  were  very  apprehensive  of  encountering.  We 
made  known  our  true  character,  and  then  they  greeted  us 
cordially.  They  expressed  much  surprise  that  so  small  a 
party  should  venture  to  traverse  that  region,  though  in 
fact  such  attempts  are  often  made  by  trappers  and  Indian 
traders.  We  rode  with  them  to  their  camp.  The  wagons, 
some  fifty  in  number,  with  here  and  there  a  tent  inter- 
vening, were  arranged  as  usual  in  a  circle ;  the  best 
horses  were  picketed  in  the  area  within,  and  the  whole 
circumference  was  glowing  with  the  dusky  light  of  fires, 
displaying  the  forms  of  the  women  and  children  who  were 
crowded  around  them.  This  patriarchal  scene  was  curious 
and  striking  enough ;  but  we  made  our  escape  from  the 
place  with  all  possible  dispatch,  being  tormented  by  the 
intrusive  questioning  of  the  men  who  thronged  about  us. 
Yankee  curiosity  was  nothing  to  theirs.  They  demanded 
our  names,  whence  we  came,  whither  we  were  going, 
and  what  was  our  business.  The  last  query  was  par- 
ticularly embarrassing ;  since  travelling  in  that  country, 
or  indeed  anywhere,  from  any  other  motive  than  gain. 


TAKING   FRENCH   LEAVE.  87 

was  an  idea  of  which  they  took  no  cognizance.  Yet  they 
were  fine-looking  fellows,  with  an  air  of  frankness,  gen- 
erosity, and  even  courtesy,  having  come  from  one  of  the 
least  barbarous  of  the  frontier  counties. 

We  passed  about  a  mile  beyond  them,  and  encamped. 
Being  too  few  in  numberto  stand  guard  without  excessive 
fatigue,  we  extinguished  our  fire,  lest  it  should  attract  the 
notice  of  wandering  Indians ;  and,  picketing  our  horses 
close  around  us,  slept  undisturbedtill  morning.  For  three 
days  we  travelled  without  interruption,  and  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  third  encamped  by  the  well-known  spring  on 
Scott's  Bluff. 

Henry  Chatillon  and  I  rode  out  in  the  morning,  and, 
descending  the  western  side  of  the  Bluff,  were  crossing 
the  plain  beyond.  Something  that  seemed  to  me  a  file  of 
buffalo  came  into  view,  descending  the  hills  several  miles 
before  us.  But  Henry  reined  in  his  horse,  and,  peering 
across  the  prairie  with  a  better  and  more  practised  eye, 
soon  discovered  its  real  nature.  " Indians!"  he  said. 
"  Old  Smoke's  lodges,  I  b'lieve.  Come ;  let  us  go !  Wah! 
get  up,  now,  '  Five  Hundred  Dollar.' "  And  laying  on 
the  lash  with  good  will,  he  galloped  forward,  and  I  rode 
by  his  side.  Not  long  after,  a  black  speck  became  visible 
on  the  prairie,  full  two  miles  off.  It  grew  larger  and 
larger ;  it  assumed  the  form  of  a  man  and  horse ;  and 
soon  we  could  discern  a  naked  Indian,  careering  at  full 
gallop  towards  us.  When  within  a  furlong  he  wheeled 
his  horse  in  a  wide  circle,  and  made  him  describe  vari- 
ous mystic  figures  upon  the  prairie  ;  Henry  immediately 
compelled  " Five  Hundred  Dollar"  to  execute  similar 
evolutions.  "  It  is  Old  Smoke's  village,"  said  he,  inter- 
preting these  signals  ;  "  didn't  I  say  so  ?  " 

As  the  Indian  approached  we  stopped  to  wait  for  him, 
when  suddenly  he  vanished,  sinking,  as  it  were,  into  tha 


88  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

earth.  He  had  come  upon  one  of  the  deep  ravines  that 
everywhere  intersect  these  prairies.  In  an  instant  the 
rough  head  of  his  horse  stretched  upward  from  the  edge, 
and  the  rider  and  steed  came  scrambling  out,  and  bounded 
up  to  us ;  a  sudden  jerk  of  the  rein  brought  the  wild 
panting  horse  to  a  full  stop.  Then  followed  the  needful 
formality  of  shaking  hands.  I  forget  our  visitor's  name. 
He  was  a  young  fellow,  of  no  note  in  his  nation ;  yet  in 
his  person  and  equipments  he  was  a  good  specimen  of  a 
Dahcotah  warrior  in  his  ordinary  travelling  dress.  Like 
most  of  his  people,  he  was  nearly  six  feet  high ;  lithely 
and  gracefully,  yet  strongly  proportioned ;  and  with  a 
skin  singularly  clear  and  delicate.  He  wore  no  paint ; 
his  head  was  bare ;  and  his  long  hair  was  gathered  in  a 
clump  behind,  to  the  top  of  which  was  attached  trans- 
versely, both  by  way  of  ornament  and  of  talisman,  the 
mystic  whistle,  made  of  the  wing-bone  of  the  war-eagle, 
and  endowed  with  various  magic  virtues.  From  the  back 
of  his  head  descended  a  line  of  glittering  brass  plates, 
tapering  from  the  size  of  a  doubloon  to  that  of  a  half- 
dime,  a  cumbrous  ornament,  in  high  vogue  among  the 
Dahcotahs,  and  for  which  they  pay  the  traders  a  most 
extravagant  price  ;  his  chest  and  arms  were  naked,  the 
buffalo  robe,  worn  over  them  when  at  rest,  had  fallen 
about  his  waist,  and  was  confined  there  by  a  belt.  This, 
with  the  gay  moccasins  on  his  feet,  completed  his  attire. 
For  arms  he  carried  a  quiver  of  dog-skin  at  his  back,  and 
a  rude  but  powerful  bow  in  his  hand.  His  horse  had  no 
bridle ;  a  cord  of  hair,  lashed  around  his  jaw,  served  in 
place  of  one.  The  saddle  was  made  of  wood  covered 
with  raw  hide,  and  both  pommel  and  cantle  rose  perpen- 
dicularly full  eighteen  inches,  so  that  the  warrior  was 
wedged  firmly  in  his  seat,  whence  nothing  could  dis- 
lodge him  but  the  bursting  of  the  girths. 


"OLD   SMOKE.' 


TAKING   FRENCH   LEAVE.  89 

Advancing  with  our  new  companion,  we  found  more  oi 
his  people,  seated  in  a  circle  on  the  top  of  a  hill ;  while  a 
rude  procession  came  straggling  down  the  neighboring 
hollow,  men,  women,  and  children,  with  horses  dragging 
the  lodge-poles  behind  them.  All  that  morning,  as  we 
moved  forward,  tall  savages  were  stalking  silently  about 
us.  At  noon  we  reached  Horse  Creek.  The  main  body 
of  the  Indians  had  arrived  before  us.  On  the  farther 
bank  stood  a  large  and  strong  man,  nearly  naked,  hold- 
ing a  white  horse  by  a  long  cord,  and  eying  us  as  we 
approached.  This  was  the  chief,  whom  Henry  called 
"  Old  Smoke."  Just  behind  him,  his  youngest  and  favor' 
ite  squaw  sat  astride  a  fine  mule,  covered  with  capari- 
sons of  whitened  skins,  garnished  with  blue  and  white 
beads,  and  fringed  with  little  ornaments  of  metal  that 
tinkled  with  every  movement  of  the  animal.  The  girl 
had  a  light  clear  complexion,  enlivened  by  a  spot  of  ver- 
milion on  each  cheek ;  she  smiled,  not  to  say  grinned, 
upon  us,  showing  two  gleaming  rows  of  white  teeth.  In 
her  hand  she  carried  the  tall  lance  of  her  unchivalrous 
lord,  fluttering  with  feathers;  his  round  white  shield 
hung  at  the  side  of  her  mule ;  and  his  pipe  was  slung  at 
her  back.  Her  dress  was  a  tunic  of  deer-skin,  made 
beautifully  white  by  means  of  a  species  of  clay  found  on 
the  prairie,  ornamented  with  beads,  arranged  in  figures 
more  gay  than  tasteful,  and  with  long  fringes  at  all  the 
seams.  Not  far  from  the  chief  stood  a  group  of  stately 
figures,  their  white  buffalo-robes  thrown  over  their  shoul- 
ders, gazing  coldly  upon  us ;  and  in  the  rear,  for  several 
acres,  the  ground  was  covered  with  a  temporary  encamp- 
ment. Warriors,  women,  and  children  swarmed  like  bees ; 
hundreds  of  dogs,  of  all  sizes  and  colors,  ran  restlessly 
about ;  and,  close  at  hand,  the  wide  shallow  stream  was 
alive  with  boys,  girls,  and  .young  squaws,  splashing, 


90  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

preaming,  and  laughing  in  the  water.  At  the  same  time 
A  long  train  of  emigrants  with  their  heavy  wagons  was 
crossing  the  creek,  and  dragging  on  in  slow  procession 
by  the  encampment  of  the  people  whom  they  and  their 
descendants,  in  the  space  of  a  century,  are  to  sweep 
from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

The  encampment  itself  was  merely  a  temporary  one 
during  the  heat  of  the  day.  None  of  the  lodges  were 
pitched ;  but  their  heavy  leather  coverings,  and  the  long 
poles  used  to  support  them,  were  scattered  everywhere, 
among  weapons,  domestic  utensils,  and  the  rude  harness 
of  mules  and  horses.  The  squaws  of  each  lazy  warrior 
had  made  him  a  shelter  from  the  sun,  by  stretching  a  few 
buffalo-robes,  or  the  corner  of  a  lodge-covering,  upon 
poles ;  and  here  he  sat  in  the  shade,  with  a  favorite  young 
squaw,  perhaps,  at  his  side,  glittering  with  all  imaginable 
trinkets.  Before  him  stood  the  insignia  of  his  rank  as  a 
warrior,  his  white  shield  of  bull-hide,  his  medicine-bag, 
his  bow  and  quiver,  his  lance  and  his  pipe,  raised  aloft 
on  a  tripod  of  poles.  Except  the  dogs,  the  most  active 
and  noisy  tenants  of  the  camp  were  the  old  women,  ugly 
as  Macbeth's  witches,  with  hair  streaming  loose  in  the 
wind,  and  nothing  but  the  tattered  fragment  of  an  old 
buffalo-robe  to  hide  their  shrivelled  limbs.  The  day  of 
their  favoritism  passed  two  generations  ago ;  now,  the 
heaviest  labors  of  the  camp  devolved  upon  them ;  they 
must  harness  the  horses,  pitch  the  lodges,  dress  the 
buffalo-robes,  and  bring  in  meat  for  the  hunters.  With 
the  cracked  voices  of  these  hags,  the  clamor  of  dogs,  the 
shouting  and  laughing  of  children  and  girls,  and  the  list- 
less tranquillity  of  the  warriors,  the  whole  scene  had  an 
effect  too  lively  and  picturesque  to  be  forgotten. 

"We  stopped  not  far  from  the  Indian  camp,  and  having 
mvited  some  of  the  chiefs  and  warriors  to  dinner,  placed 


TAKING   FKENCH   LEAVE.  91 

before  them  a  repast  of  biscuit  and  coffee.  Squatted  in  a 
half  circle  on  the  ground,  they  soon  disposed  of  it.  As 
we  rode  forward  on  the  afternoon  journey,,  several  of  our 
late  guests  accompanied  us.  Among  the  rest  was  a 
bloated  savage,  of  more  than  three  hundred  pounds* 
weight,  christened  Le  Cockon,  in  consideration  of  his 
preposterous  dimensions,  and  certain  corresponding  traits 
of  his  character.  "  The  Hog  "  bestrode  a  little  white  pony, 
scarcely  able  to  bear  up  under  the  enormous  burden, 
though,  by  way  of  keeping  up  the  necessary  stimulus,  the 
rider  kept  both  feet  in  constant  motion,  playing  alter- 
nately against  his  ribs.  The  old  man  was  not  a  chief ; 
he  never  had  ambition  enough  to  become  one ;  he  was 
not  a  warrior  nor  a  hunter,  for  he  was  too  fat  and  lazy ; 
but  he  was  the  richest  man  in  the  village.  Riches  among 
the  Dahcotahs  consist  in  horses,  and  of  these  "The 
Hog"  had  accumulated  more  than  thirty.  He  had 
already  ten  times  as  many  as  he  wanted,  yet  still  his 
appetite  for  horses  was  insatiable.  Trotting  up  to  me,  he 
shook  me  by  the  hand,  and  gave  me  to  understand  that 
he  was  my  devoted  friend;  then  he  began  a  series  of 
signs  and  gesticulation,  his  oily  countenance  radiant 
with  smiles,  and  his  little  eyes  peeping  out  with  a  cunning 
twinkle  from  between  the  masses  of  flesh  that  almost 
obscured  them.  Knowing  nothing  at  that  time  of  the 
sign-language  of  the  Indians,  I  could  only  guess  at  his 
meaning.  So  I  called  on  Henry  to  explain  it. 

"  The  Hog,"  it  seems,  was  anxious  to  conclude  a  mat- 
rimonial bargain,  and  barter  one  of  his  daughters  for  my 
horse.  These  overtures  I  chose  to  reject ;  at  which  "  The 
Hog,"  still  laughing  with  undiminished  good  humor, 
gathered  his  robe  about  his  shoulders,  and  rode  away. 

Where  we  encamped  that  night,  an  arm  of  the  Platte 
ran  between  high  bluffs ;  it  was  turbid  and  swift  as  here- 


92  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

tofore,  but  trees  were  growing  on  its  crumbling  banks, 
and  there  was  a  nook  of  grass  between  the  water  and  the 
hill.  Just  before  entering  this  place,  we  saw  the  emi- 
grants encamping  two  or  three  miles  distant  on  the 
right ;  while  the  whole  Indian  rabble  were  pouring  down 
the  neighboring  hill  in  hope  of  the  same  sort  of  enter- 
tainment which  they  had  experienced  from  us.  In  the 
savage  landscape  before  our  camp,  nothing  but  the  rush- 
ing of  the  Platte  broke  the  silence.  Through  the  ragged 
boughs  of  the  trees,  dilapidated  and  half  dead,  we  saw 
the  sun  setting  in  crimson  behind  the  peaks  of  the  Black 
Hills ;  the  restless  bosom  of  ^he  river  was  suffused  with 
red ;  our  white  tent  was  tinged  with  it,  and  the  sterile 
bluffs,  up  to  the  rocks  that  crowned  them,  partook  of  the 
same  fiery  hue.  It  soon  passed  away ;  no  light  remained 
but  that  from  our  fire,  blazing  high  among  the  dusky 
trees  and  bushes,  while  we  lay  around  it  wrapped  in  our 
blankets,  smoking  and  conversing  through  half  the  night. 
We  crossed  a  sun-scorched  plain  on  the  next  morning ; 
the  line  of  old  cotton-wood  trees  that  fringed  the  bank  of 
the  Platte  forming  its  extreme  verge.  Nestled  close  be- 
neath them,  we  could  discern  in  the  distance  something 
like  a  building.  As  we  came  nearer,  it  assumed  form 
and  dimensions,  and  proved  to  be  a  rough  structure  of 
logs.  It  was  a  little  trading  fort,  belonging  to  two  private 
traders ;  and  originally  intended,  like  all  the  forts  of  the 
country,  to  form  a  hollow  square,  with  rooms  for  lodging 
and  storage  opening  upon  the  area  within.  Only  two 
sides  of  it  had  been  completed ;  the  place  was  now  as 
ill-fitted  for  the  purposes  of  defence  as  any  of  those 
little  log-houses,  which  upon  our  constantly-shifting  fron- 
tier have  been  so  often  successfully  held  against  over- 
whelming odds  of  Indians.  Two  lodges  were  pitched 
close  to  the  fort;  the  sun  beat  scorching  upon  the  logs; 


TAKING  FKENCH  LEAVE.  93 

no  living  thing  was  stirring  except  one  old  squaw,  who 
thrust  her  round  head  from  the  opening  of  the  nearest 
lodge,  and  three  or  four  stout  young  puppies,  who  were 
peeping  with  looks  of  eager  inquiry  from  under  the  cover- 
ing. In  a  moment  a  door  opened,  and  a  little,  swarthy, 
black-eyed  Frenchman  came  out.  His  dress  was  rather 
singular ;  his  black  curling  hair  was  parted  in  the  middle 
of  his  head,  and  fell  below  his  shoulders ;  he  wore  a  tight 
frock  of  smoked  deer-skin,  gayly  ornamented  with  figures 
worked  in  dyed  porcupine-quills.  His  moccasins  and 
leggins  were  also  gaudily  adorned  in  the  same  manner ; 
and  the  latter  had  in  addition  a  line  of  long  fringes, 
reaching  down  the  seams.  The  small  frame  of  Richard, 
for  by  this  name  Henry  made  him  known  to  us,  was  in 
the  highest  degree  athletic  and  vigorous.  There  was  no 
superfluity,  and  indeed  there  seldom  is  among  the  white 
men  of  this  country,  but  every  limb  was  compact  and 
hard;  every  sinew  had  its  full  tone  and  elasticity,  and 
the  whole  man  wore  an  air  of  mingled  hardihood 
and  buoyancy. 

Richard  committed  our  horses  to  a  Navaho  slave,  a 
mean-looking  fellow,  taken  prisoner  on  the  Mexican  fron- 
tier ;  and,  relieving  us  of  our  rifles  with  ready  politeness, 
led  the  way  into  the  principal  apartment  of  his  establish- 
ment. This  was  a  room  ten  feet  square.  The  walls  and 
floor  were  of  black  mud,  and  the  roof  of  rough  timber ; 
there  was  a  huge  fireplace  made  of  four  flat  rocks,  picked 
up  on  the  prairie.  An  Indian  bow  and  otter-skin  quiver, 
several  gaudy  articles  of  Rocky  Mountain  finery,  an  Indian 
medicine-bag,  and  a  pipe  and  tobacco-pouch,  garnished 
the  walls,  and  rifles  rested  in  a  corner.  There  was  no 
furniture  except  a  sort  of  rough  settle,  covered  with  buf- 
falo-robes, upon  which  lolled  a  tall  half-breed  with  his 
hair  glued  in  masses  upon  each  temple,  and  saturated 


94  THE   OREGON    TRAIL. 

with  vermilion.  Two  or  three  more  "  mountain  men  * 
sat  cross-legged  on  the  floor.  Their  attire  was  not  un- 
like that  of  Richard  himself ;  but  the  most  striking  figure 
of  the  group  was  a  naked  Indian  boy  of  sixteen,  with  a 
handsome  face,  and  light,  active  proportions,  who  sat  in 
an  easy  posture  in  the  corner  near  the  door.  Not  one  of 
his  limbs  moved  the  breadth  of  a  hair ;  his  eye  was  fixed 
immovably,  not  on  any  person  present,  but,  as  it  appeared, 
on  the  projecting  corner  of  the  fireplace  opposite  to  him, 

On  the  prairie  the  custom  of  smoking  with  friends  is 
seldom  omitted,  whether  among  Indians  or  whites.  The 
pipe,  therefore,  was  taken  from  the  wall,  and  its  red  bowl 
crammed  with  the  tobacco  and  shongsasha,  mixed  in  suit* 
able  proportions.  Then  it  passed  round  the  circle,  each 
man  inhaling  a  few  whiffs  and  handing  it  to  his  neighbor. 
Having  spent  half  an  hour  here,  we  took  our  leave ;  first 
inviting  our  new  friends  to  drink  a  cup  of  coffee  with  us 
at  our  camp  a  mile  farther  up  the  river. 

By  this  time  we  had  grown  rather  shabby ;  our  clothea 
had  burst  into  rags  and  tatters ;  and,  what  was  worse,  we 
had  little  means  of  renovation.  Fort  Laramie  was  but 
seven  miles  before  us.  Being  averse  to  appearing  in 
such  a  plight  among  any  society  that  could  boast  an 
approximation  to  the  civilized,  we  stopped  by  the  river  to 
make  our  toilet  in  the  best  way  we  could.  We  hung  up 
small  looking-glasses  against  the  trees  and  shaved,  an 
operation  neglected  for  six  weeks;  we  performed  our 
ablutions  in  the  Platte,  though  the  utility  of  such  a  pro- 
ceeding was  questionable,  the  water  looking  exactly  like 
a  cup  of  chocolate,  and  the  banks  consisting  of  the  softest 
and  richest  yellow  mud,  so  that  we  were  obliged,  as  a 
preliminary,  to  build  a  causeway  of  branches  and  twigs. 
Having  also  put  on  radiant  moccasins,  procured  from  a 
squaw  of  Richard's  establishment,  and  made  what  other 


TAKING  FRENCH  LEAVE.  95 

improvements  our  narrow  circumstances  allowed,  we  took 
our  seats  on  the  grass  with  a  feeling  of  greatly  increased 
respectability,  to  await  the  arrival  of  our  guests.  They 
came ;  the  banquet  was  concluded,  and  the  pipe  smoked. 
Bidding  them  adieu,  we  turned  our  horses'  head  towards 
the  fort. 

An  hour  elapsed.  The  barren  hills  closed  across  our 
front,  and  we  could  see  no  farther;  until,  having  sur- 
mounted them,  a  rapid  stream  appeared  at  the  foot  of  the 
descent,  running  into  the  Platte;  beyond  was  a  green 
meadow,  dotted  with  bushes,  and  in  the  midst  of  these, 
at  the  point  where  the  two  rivers  joined,  were  the  low 
clay  walls  of  a  fort.  This  was  not  Fort  Laramie,  but  an- 
other post,  of  less  recent  date,  which  having  sunk  before 
its  successful  competitor,  was  now  deserted  and  ruinous. 
A  moment  after,  the  hills  seeming  to  draw  apart  as  we 
advanced,  disclosed  Fort  Laramie  itself,  its  high  bastions 
and  perpendicular  walls  of  clay  crowning  an  eminence  on 
the  left  beyond  the  stream,  while  behind  stretched  a  line  of 
arid  and  desolate  ridges,  and  behind  these  again,  towering 
seven  thousand  feet  aloft,  rose  the  grim  Black  Hills. 

We  tried  to  ford  Laramie  Creek  at  a  point  nearly  op- 
posite the  fort,  but  the  stream,  swollen  with  rains,  was 
too  rapid.  We  passed  up  along  its  bank  to  find  a  better 
crossing  place.  Men  gathered  on  the  wall  to  look  at  us. 
"  There's  Bordeaux ! "  called  Henry,  his  face  brighten- 
ing as  he  recognized  his  acquaintance ;  "  him  there  with 
the  spy-glass;  and  there's  old  Vaskiss,  and  Tucker, 
and  May ;  and,  by  George  I  there's  Simoneau."  This 
Simoneau  was  Henry's  fast  friend,  and  the  only  man  in 
the  country  who  could  rival  him  in  hunting. 

We  soon  found  a  ford.  Henry  led  the  way,  the  pony 
approaching  the  bank  with  a  countenance  of  cool  indiffer- 
ence, bracing  his  feet  and  sliding  into  the  stream  with 


96  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

the  most  unmoved  composure.  We  followed ;  the  water 
boiled  against  our  saddles,  but  our  horses  bore  us  easily 
through.  The  unfortunate  little  mules  were  near  going 
down  with  the  current,  cart  and  all ;  and  we  watched 
them  with  some  solicitude  scrambling  over  the  loose  round 
stones  at  the  bottom,  and  bracing  stoutly  against  the 
stream.  All  landed  safely  at  last ;  we  crossed  a  little 
plain,  descended  a  hollow,  and,  riding  up  a  steep  bank, 
found  ourselves  before  the  gateway  of  Fort  Laramie, 
under  the  impending  blockhouse  erected  above  it  to 
defend  the  entrance. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SCENES  AT  FORT  LARAMTE. 

LOOKING  back,  after  the  expiration  of  a  year,  upon 
Fort  Laramie  and  its  inmates,  they  seem  less  like 
a  reality  than  like  some  fanciful  picture  of  the  olden 
time ;  so  different  was  the  scene  from  any  which  this 
tamer  side  of  the  world  can  present.  Tall  Indians,  en- 
veloped in  their  white  buffalo-robes,  were  striding  across 
the  area  or  reclining  at  full  length  on  the  low  roofs  of  the 
buildings  which  enclosed  it.  Numerous  squaws,  gayly 
bedizened,  sat  grouped  in  front  of  the  rooms  they  occu- 
pied ;  their  mongrel  offspring,  restless  and  vociferous, 
rambled  in  every  direction  through  the  fort ;  and  the  trap- 
pers, traders,  and  engages  of  the  establishment  were  busy 
at  their  labor  or  their  amusements. 

We  were  met  at  the  gate,  but  by  no  means  cordially 
welcomed.  Indeed,  we  seemed  objects  of  some  distrust 
and  suspicion,  until  Henry  Chatillon  explained  that  we 
were  not  traders,  and  we,  in  confirmation,  handed  to  the 
bourgeois  a  letter  of  introduction  from  his  principals. 
He  took  it,  turned  it  upside  down,  and  tried  hard  to  read 
it ;  but  his  literary  attainments  not  being  adequate  to  the 
task,  he  applied  for  relief  to  the  clerk,  a  sleek,  smiling 
Frenchman,  named  Monthalon.  The  letter  read,  Bor- 
deaux the  (bourgeois)  seemed  gradually  to  awaken  to  a 
sense  of  what  was  expected  of  him.  Though  not  deficient 
in  hospitable  intentions,  he  was  wholly  unaccustomed  to 

7 


98  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

act  as  master  of  ceremonies.  Discarding  all  formalities 
of  reception,  he  did  not  honor  us  with  a  single  word,  but 
walked  swiftly  across  the  area,  while  we  followed  in  some 
admiration  to  a  railing  and  a  flight  of  steps  opposite  the 
entrance.  He  signed  to  us  that  we  had  better  fasten  our 
horses  to  the  railing;  then  he  walked  up  the  steps,  tramped 
along  a  rude  balcony,  and,  kicking  open  a  door,  displayed 
a  large  room,  rather  more  elaborately  furnished  than  a 
barn.  For  furniture  it  had  a  rough  bedstead,  but  no  bed ; 
two  chairs,  a  chest  of  drawers,  a  tin  pail  to  hold  water, 
and  a  board  to  cut  tobacco  upon.  A  brass  crucifix  hung 
on  the  wall,  and  close  at  hand  a  recent  scalp,  with  hair 
full  a  yard  long,  was  suspended  from  a  nail.  I  shall  again 
have  occasion  to  mention  this  dismal  trophy,  its  history 
being  connected  with  that  of  our  subsequent  proceedings. 
This  apartment,  the  best  in  Fort  Laramie,  was  that 
usually  occupied  by  the  legitimate  bourgeois,  Papin,  in 
whose  absence  the  command  devolved  upon  Bordeaux. 
The  latter,  a  stout,  bluff  little  fellow,  much  inflated  by  a 
sense  of  his  new  authority,  began  to  roar  for  buffalo-robes. 
These  being  brought  and  spread  upon  the  floor,  formed 
our  beds ;  much  better  ones  than  we  had  of  late  been 
accustomed  to.  Our  arrangements  made,  we  stepped  out 
to  the  balcony  to  take  a  more  leisurely  survey  of  the  long 
looked-f  or  haven  at  which  we  had  arrived  at  last,  Beneath 
us  was  the  square  area  surrounded  by  little  rooms,  or 
rather  cells,  which  opened  upon  it.  These  were  devoted 
to  various  purposes,  but  served  chiefly  for  the  accommo- 
dation of  the  men  employed  at  the  fort,  or  of  the  equally 
numerous  squaws  whom  they  were  allowed  to  maintain 
in  it.  Opposite  to  us  rose  the  blockhouse  above  the  gate- 
way ;  it  was  adorned  with  the  figure  of  a  horse  at  full 
speed,  daubed  upon  the  boards  with  red  paint,  and  exhib- 
iting a  degree  of  skill  which  might  rival  that  displayed  by 


SCENES   AT   FORT   LARAMIE.  99 

the  Indians  in  executing  similar  designs  upon  their  robea 
and  lodges.  A  busy  scene  was  enacting  in  the  area. 
The  wagons  of  Vaskiss,  an  old  trader,  were  about  to  set 
out  for  a  remote  post  in  the  mountains,  and  the  Canadians 
were  going  through  their  preparations  with  all  possible 
bustle,  while  here  and  there  an  Indian  stood  looking  on 
with  imperturbable  gravity. 

Fort  Laramie  is  one  of  the  posts  established  by  the 
"  American  Fur  Company,"  which  well-nigh  monopolizes 
the  Indian  trade  of  this  region.  Here  its  officials  rule 
with  an  absolute  sway ;  the  arm  of  the  United  States  has 
little  force  ;  for  when  we  were  there,  the  extreme  outposts 
of  her  troops  were  about  seven  hundred  miles  to  the  east- 
ward. The  little  fort  is  built  of  bricks  dried  in  the  sun, 
and  externally  is  of  an  oblong  form,  with  bastions  of 
clay,  in  the  form  of  ordinary  blockhouses,  at  two  of  the 
corners.  The  walls  are  about  fifteen  feet  high,  and  sur- 
mounted by  a  slender  palisade.  The  roofs  of  the  apart- 
ments within,  which  are  built  close  against  the  walls, 
serve  the  purpose  of  a  banquette.  Within,  the  fort  is 
divided  by  a  partition :  on  one  side  is  the  square  area, 
surrounded  by  the  store-rooms,  offices,  and  apartments 
of  the  inmates ;  on  the  other  is  the  corral,  a  narrow  place* 
encompassed  by  the  high  clay  walls,  where  at  night,  or  in 
presence  of  dangerous  Indians,  the  horses  and  mules  of 
the  fort  are  crowded  for  safe  keeping.  The  main  entrance 
has  two  gates,  with  an  arched  passage  intervening.  A 
little  square  window,  high  above  the  ground,  opens  later- 
ally from  an  adjoining  chamber  into  this  passage  ;  so  that 
when  the  inner  gate  is  closed  and  barred,  a  person  with- 
out may  still  hold  communication  with  those  within, 
through  this  narrow  aperture.  This  obviates  the  neces- 
sity of  admitting  suspicious  Indians,  for  purposes  of 
trading,  into  the  body  of  the  fort ;  for  when  danger  ia 


100  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

apprehended,  the  inner  gate  is  shut  fast,  and  all  traffic 
is  carried  on  by  means  of  the  window.  This  precaution, 
though  necessary  at  some  of  the  Company's  posts,  is 
seldom  resorted  to  at  Fort  Laramie ;  where,  though  men 
are  frequently  killed  in  the  neighborhood,  no  apprehen- 
sions are  felt  of  any  general  designs  of  hostility  from 
the  Indians. 

We  did  not  long  enjoy  our  new  quarters  undisturbed. 
The  door  was  silently  pushed  open,  and  two  eyeballs  and 
a  visage  as  black  as  night  looked  in  upon  us ;  then  a  red 
arm  and  shoulder  intruded  themselves,  and  a  tall  Indian, 
gliding  in,  shook  us  by  the  hand,  grunted  his  salutation, 
and  sat  down  on  the  floor.  Others  followed,  with  faces 
of  the  natural  hue,  and  letting  fall  their  heavy  robes  from 
their  shoulders,  took  their  seats,  quite  at  ease,  in  a  semi- 
circle before  us.  The  pipe  was  now  to  be  lighted  and 
passed  from  one  to  another ;  and  this  was  the  only  enter- 
tainment that  at  present  they  expected  from  us.  These 
visitors  were  fathers,  brothers,  or  other  relatives  of  the 
squaws  in  the  fort,  where  they  were  permitted  to  remain, 
loitering  about  in  perfect  idleness.  All  those  who  smoked 
with  us  were  men  of  standing  and  repute.  Two  or  three 
others  dropped  in  also ;  young  fellows  who  neither  by 
their  years  nor  their  exploits  were  entitled  to  rank  with 
the  old  men  and  warriors,  and  who,  abashed  in  the  pres- 
ence of  their  superiors,  stood  aloof,  never  withdrawing 
their  eyes  from  us.  Their  cheeks  were  adorned  with 
vermilion,  their  ears  with  pendants  of  shell,  and  their 
necks  with  beads.  Never  yet  having  signalized  them- 
selves as  hunters,  or  performed  the  honorable  exploit  of 
killing  a  man,  they  were  held  in  slight  esteem,  and  were 
diffident  and  bashful  in  proportion.  Certain  formidable 
inconveniences  attended  this  influx  of  visitors.  They 
were  bent  on  inspecting  every  thing  in  the  room ;  our 


SCENES    AT    FORT    LARAMIE.  101 

equipments  and  our  dress  alike  underwent  their  scrutiny ; 
for  though  the  contrary  has  been  asserted,  few  beings 
have  more  curiosity  than  Indians  in  regard  to  subjects 
within  their  ordinary  range  of  thought.  As  to  other 
matters,  indeed,  they  seem  utterly  indifferent.  They  will 
not  trouble  themselves  to  inquire  into  what  they  cannot 
comprehend,  but  are  quite  contented  to  place  their  hands 
over  their  mouths  in  token  of  wonder,  and  exclaim  that 
it  is  "great  medicine."  With  this  comprehensive  solu- 
tion, an  Indian  never  is  at  a  loss.  He  never  launches 
into  speculation  and  conjecture  ;  his  reason  moves  in  its 
beaten  track.  His  soul  is  dormant ;  and  no  exertions  of 
the  missionaries,  Jesuit  or  Puritan,  of  the  old  world  or 
of  the  new,  have  as  yet  availed  to  arouse  it. 

As  we  were  looking,  at  sunset,  from  the  wall,  upon  the 
desolate  plains  that  surround  the  fort,  we  observed  a 
cluster  of  strange  objects,  like  scaffolds,  rising  in  the  dis- 
tance against  the  red  western  sky.  They  bore  aloft  some 
singular-looking  burdens ;  and  at  their  foot  glimmered 
something  white,  like  bones.  This  was  the  place  of  sepul- 
ture of  some  Dahcotah  chiefs,  whose  remains  their  people 
are  fond  of  placing  in  the  vicinity  of  the  fort,  in  the  hope 
that  they  may  thus  be  protected  from  violation  at  the 
hands  of  their  enemies.  Yet  it  has  happened  more  than 
once,  and  quite  recently,  that  war  parties  of  the  Crow 
Indians,  ranging  through  the  country,  have  thrown  the 
bodies  from  the  scaffolds,  and  broken  them  to  pieces,  amid 
the  yells  of  the  Dahcotah,  who  remained  pent  up  in  the 
fort,  too  few  to  defend  the  honored  relics  from  insult. 
The  white  objects  upon  the  ground  were  buffalo  skulls, 
arranged  in  the  mystic  circle,  commonly  seen  at  Indian 
places  of  sepulture  upon  the  prairie. 

We  soon  discovered,  in  the  twilight,  a  band  of  fifty  or 
sixty  horses  approaching  the  fort.  These  were  the  an- 


102  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

imals  belonging  to  the  establishment ;  who,  having  been 
sent  out  to  feed,  under  the  care  of  armed  guards,  in  the 
meadows  below,  were  now  being  driven  into  the  corral 
for  the  night.  A  gate  opened  into  this  inclosure :  by  the 
side  of  it  stood  one  of  the  guards,  an  old  Canadian,  with 
gray  bushy  eyebrows,  and  a  dragoon-pistol  stuck  into  his 
belt ;  while  his  comrade,  mounted  on  horseback,  his  rifle 
laid  across  the  saddle  in  front,  and  his  long  hair  blowing 
before  his  swarthy  face,  rode  at  the  rear  of  the  disorderly 
troop,  urging  them  up  the  ascent.  In  a  moment  the 
narrow  corral  was  thronged  with  the  half-wild  horses, 
kicking,  biting,  and  crowding  restlessly  together. 

The  discordant  jingling  of  a  bell,  rung  by  a  Canadian 
in  the  area,  summoned  us  to  supper.  The  repast  was 
served  on  a  rough  table  in  one  of  the  lower  apartments 
of  the  fort,  and  consisted  of  cakes  of  bread  and  dried 
buffalo  meat  —  an  excellent  thing  for  strengthening  the 
teeth.  At  this  meal  were  seated  the  bourgeois  and  supe- 
rior dignitaries  of  the  establishment,  among  whom  Henry 
Chatillon  was  worthily  included.  No  sooner  was  it 
finished,  than  the  table  was  spread  a  second  time  (the 
luxury  of  bread  being  now,  however,  omitted),  for  the 
benefit  of  certain  hunters  and  trappers  of  an  inferior 
standing ;  while  the  ordinary  Canadian  engages  were  re- 
galed on  dried  meat  in  one  of  their  lodging  rooms.  By 
way  of  illustrating  the  domestic  economy  of  Fort  Laramie, 
it  may  not  be  amiss  to  introduce  in  this  place  a  story  cur- 
rent among  the  men  when  we  were  there. 

There  was  an  old  man  named  Pierre,  whose  duty  it  was 
to  bring  the  meat  from  the  store-room  for  the  men.  Old 
Pierre,  in  the  kindness  of  his  heart,  used  to  select  the 
fattest  and  the  best  pieces  for  his  companions.  This  did 
not  long  escape  the  keen-eyed  bourgeois,  who  was  greatly 
disturbed  at  such  improvidence,  and  cast  about  for  some 


SCENES   AT    FORT   LARAMIE.  103 

means  to  stop  it.  At  last  he  hit  on  a  plan  that  exactly 
suited  him.  At  the  side  of  the  meat-room,  and  separated 
from  it  by  a  clay  partition,  was  another  apartment,  used 
for  the  storage  of  furs.  It  had  no  communication  with 
the  fort,  except  through  a  square  hole  in  the  partition; 
and  of  course  it  was  perfectly  dark.  One  evening  the 
bourgeois,  watching  for  a  moment  when  no  one  observed 
him,  dodged  into  the  meat-room,  clambered  through  the 
hole,  and  ensconced  himself  among  the  furs  and  buffalo- 
robes.  Soon  after,  old  Pierre  came  in  with  his  lantern; 
and,  muttering  to  himself,  began  to  pull  over  the  bales 
of  meat,  and  select  the  best  pieces,  as  usual.  But  sud- 
denly a  hollow  and  sepulchral  voice  proceeded  from  the 
inner  room :  "  Pierre,  Pierre  !  Let  that  fat  meat  alone. 
Take  nothing  but  lean."  Pierre  dropped  his  lantern,  and 
bolted  out  into  the  fort,  screaming,  in  an  agony  of  terror, 
that  the  devil  was  in  the  store-room ;  but  tripping  on  the 
threshold,  he  pitched  over  upon  the  gravel,  and  lay  sense- 
less, stunned  by  the  fall.  The  Canadians  ran  out  to  the 
rescue.  Some  lifted  the  unlucky  Pierre;  and  others, 
making  an  extempore  crucifix  of  two  sticks,  were  pro- 
ceeding to  attack  the  devil  in  his  stronghold,  when  the 
bourgeois,  with  a  crestfallen  countenance,  appeared  at 
the  door.  To  add  to  his  mortification,  he  was  obliged  to 
explain  the  whole  stratagem  to  Pierre,  in  order  to  bring 
him  to  his  senses. 

We  were  sitting,  on  the  following  morning,  in  the 
passage-way  between  the  gates,  conversing  with  the 
traders  Vaskiss  and  May.  These  two  men,  together  with 
our  sleek  friend,  the  clerk  Monthalon,  were,  I  believe,  the 
only  persons  then  in  the  fort  who  could  read  and  write. 
May  was  telling  a  curious  story  about  the  traveller  Catlin, 
when  an  ugly,  diminutive  Indian,  wretchedly  mounted, 
came  up  at  a  gallop,  and  rode  by  us  into  the  fort.  On 


104  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

being  questioned,  he  said  that  Smoke's  village  was  close 
at  hand.  Accordingly  only  a  few  minutes  elapsed  before 
the  hills  beyond  the  river  were  covered  with  a  disorderly 
swarm  of  savages,  on  horseback  and  on  foot.  May  fin- 
ished his  story ;  and  by  that  time  the  whole  array  had 
descended  to  Laramie  Creek,  and  begun  to  cross  it  in  a 
mass.  I  walked  down  to  the  bank.  The  stream  is  wide, 
and  was  then  between  three  and  four  feet  deep,  with  a 
very  swift  current.  For  several  rods  the  water  was  alive 
with  dogs,  horses,  and  Indians.  The  long  poles  used  in 
pitching  the  lodges  are  carried  by  the  horses,  fastened 
by  the  heavier  end,  two  or  three  on  each  side,  to  a  rude 
sort  of  pack-saddle,  while  the  other  end  drags  on  the 
ground.  About  a  foot  behind  the  horse,  a  kind  of  large 
basket  or  pannier  is  suspended  between  the  poles,  and 
firmly  lashed  in  its  place.  On  the  back  of  the  horse 
are  piled  various  articles  of  luggage ;  the  basket  also  is 
well  filled  with  domestic  utensils,  or,  quite  as  often,  with 
a  litter  of  puppies,  a  brood  of  small  children,  or  a  super- 
annuated old  man.  Numbers  of  these  curious  vehicles, 
traineaux,  or,  as  the  Canadians  called  them,  travaux,  were 
now  splashing  together  through  the  stream.  Among 
them  swam  countless  dogs,  often  burdened  with  miniature 
traineaux;  and  dashing  forward  on  horseback  through 
the  throng  came  the  warriors,  the  slender  figure  of  some 
lynx-eyed  boy  clinging  fast  behind  them.  The  women 
sat  perched  on  the  pack-saddles,  adding  not  a  little  to  the 
load  of  the  already  overburdened  "horses.  The  confusion 
was  prodigious.  The  dogs  yelled  and  howled  in  chorus ; 
the  puppies  in  the  traineaux  set  up  a  dismal  whine  as  the 
water  invaded  their  comfortable  retreat;  the  little  black- 
eyed  children,  from  one  year  of  age  upward,  clung  fast 
with  both  hands  to  the  edge  of  their  basket,  and  looked 
over  in  alarm  at  the  water  rushing  so  near  them,  sputter- 


SCENES   AT   FORT    LARAMIE.  105 

ing  and  making  wry  mouths  as  it  splashed  against  their 
faces.  Some  of  the  dogs,  encumbered  by  their  load,  were 
carried  down  by  the  current,  yelping  piteously ;  and  the 
old  squaws  would  rush  into  the  water,  seize  their  favorites 
by  the  neck,  and  drag  them  out.  As  each  horse  gained 
the  bank,  he  scrambled  up  as  he  could.  Stray  horses 
and  colts  came  among  the  rest,  often  breaking  away  at 
full  speed  through  the  crowd,  followed  by  the  old  hags, 
screaming  after  their  fashion  on  all  occasions  of  excite- 
ment. Buxom  young  squaws,  blooming  in  all  the  charms 
of  vermilion,  stood  here  and  there  on  the  bank,  holding 
aloft  their  master's  lance,  as  a  signal  to  collect  the  scat- 
tered portions  of  his  household.  In  a  few  moments  the 
crowd  melted  away;  each  family,  with  its  horses  and 
equipage,  filing  off  to  the  plain  at  the  rear  of  the  fort ; 
and  here,  in  the  space  of  half  an  hour,  arose  sixty  or 
seventy  of  their  tapering  lodges.  Their  horses  were 
feeding  by  hundreds  over  the  surrounding  prairie,  and 
their  dogs  were  roaming  everywhere.  The  fort  was  full 
of  warriors,  and  the  children  were  whooping  and  yelling 
incessantly  under  the  walls. 

These  new-comers  were  scarcely  arrived,  when  Bor- 
deaux ran  across  the  fort,  shouting  to  his  squaw  to  bring 
him  his  spy-glass.  The  obedient  Marie,  the  very  model 
of  a  squaw,  produced  the  instrument,  and  Bordeaux 
hurried  with  it  to  the  wall.  Pointing  it  eastward,  he 
exclaimed,  with  an  oath,  that  the  families  were  coming. 
But  a  few  minutes  elapsed  before  the  heavy  caravan  of 
the  emigrant  wagons  could  be  seen,  steadily  advancing 
from  the  hills.  They  gained  the  river,  and,  without  turn- 
ing or  pausing,  plunged  in,  passed  through,  and  slowly 
ascending  the  opposing  bank,  kept  directly  on  their  way 
by  the  fort  and  the  Indian  village,  until,  gaining  a  spot  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  they  wheeled  into  a  circle.  For 


106  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

some  time  our  tranquillity  was  undisturbed.  The  emi- 
grants were  preparing  their  encampment ;  but  no  sooner 
was  this  accomplished,  than  Fort  Laramie  was  taken  by 
storm.  A  crowd  of  broad-brimmed  hats,  thin  visages, 
and  staring  eyes,  appeared  suddenly  at  the  gate.  Tall, 
awkward  men,  in  brown  homespun ;  women,  with  cadav- 
erous faces  and  long  lank  figures,  came  thronging  in 
together,  and,  as  if  inspired  by  the  very  demon  of  curios- 
ity, ransacked  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  fort.  Dis- 
mayed at  this  invasion,  we  withdrew  in  all  speed  to  our 
chamber,  vainly  hoping  that  it  might  prove  a  sanctuary. 
The  emigrants  prosecuted  their  investigations  with  untir- 
ing vigor.  They  penetrated  the  rooms,  or  rather  dens, 
inhabited  by  the  astonished  squaws.  Resolved  to  search 
every  mystery  to  the  bottom,  they  explored  the  apart- 
ments of  the  men,  and  even  that  of  Marie  and  the  bour- 
geois. At  last  a  numerous  deputation  appeared  at  our 
door,  but  found  no  encouragement  to  remain. 

Having  at  length  satisfied  their  curiosity,  they  next 
proceeded  to  business.  The  men  occupied  themselves 
in  procuring  supplies  for  their  onward  journey ;  either 
buying  them,  or  giving  in  exchange  superfluous  articles 
of  their  own. 

The  emigrants  felt  a  violent  prejudice  against  the 
French  Indians,  as  they  called  the  trappers  and  traders. 
They  thought,  and  with  some  reason,  that  these  men  bore 
them  no  good- will.  Many  of  them  were  firmly  persuaded, 
that  the  French  were  instigating  the  Indians  to  attack 
and  cut  them  off.  On  visiting  the  encampment  we  were 
at  once  struck  with  the  extraordinary  perplexity  and 
indecision  that  prevailed  among  them.  They  seemed  like 
men  totally  out  of  their  element ;  bewildered  and  amazed, 
like  a  troop  of  schoolboys  lost  in  the  woods.  It  was 
impossible  to  be  long  among  them  without  being  con- 


SCENES    AT    FORT   LARAMIE.  107 

scious  of  the  bold  spirit  with  which  most  of  them  were 
animated.  But  the  forest  is  the  home  of  the  backwoods^ 
man.  On  the  remote  prairie  he  is  totally  at  a  loss.  He 
differs  as  much  from  the  genuine  "  mountain-man  "  as  a 
Canadian  voyageur,  paddling  his  canoe  on  the  rapids  of 
the  Ottawa,  differs  from  an  American  sailor  among  the 
storms  of  Cape  Horn.  Still  my  companion  and  I  were 
somewhat  at  a  loss  to  account  for  this  perturbed  state  of 
mind.  It  could  not  be  cowardice  :  these  men  were  of  the 
same  stock  with  the  volunteers  of  Monterey  and  Buena 
Vista.  Yet,  for  the  most  part,  they  were  the  rudest  and 
most  ignorant  of  the  frontier  population;  they  knew 
absolutely  nothing  of  the  country  and  its  inhabitants ; 
they  had  already  experienced  much'  misfortune,  and 
apprehended  more  ;  they  had  seen  nothing  of  mankind, 
and  had  never  put  their  own  resources  to  the  test. 

A  full  share  of  suspicion  fell  upon  us.  Being  strangers, 
we  were  looked  upon  as  enemies.  Having  occasion  for  a 
supply  of  lead  and  a  few  other  necessary  articles,  we  used 
to  go  over  to  the  emigrant  camps  to  obtain  them.  After 
some  hesitation,  some  dubious  glances,  and  fumbling  of 
the  hands  in  the  pockets,  the  terms  would  be  agreed 
upon,  the  price  tendered,  and  the  emigrant  would  go  off 
to  bring  the  article  in  question.  After  waiting  until  our 
patience  gave  out,  we  would  go  in  search  of  him,  and 
find  him  seated  on  the  tongue  of  his  wagon. 

"Well,  stranger,"  he  would  observe,  as  he  saw  us 
approach,  "I  reckon  I  won't  trade." 

Some  friend  of  his  had  followed  him  from  the  scene  of 
the  bargain,  and  whispered  in  his  ear  that  clearly  we  meant 
to  cheat  him,  and  he  had  better  have  nothing  to  do  with  us. 

This  timorous  mood  of  the  emigrants  was  doubly  un- 
fortunate, as  it  exposed  them  to  real  danger.  Assume,  in 
the  presence  of  Indians,  a  bold  bearing,  self -confident  yet 


108  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

vigilant,  and  you  will  find  them  tolerably  safe  neighbors 
But  your  safety  depends  on  the  respect  and  fear  you  are 
able  to  inspire.  If  you  betray  timidity  or  indecision, 
you  convert  them  from  that  moment  into  insidious  and 
dangerous  enemies.  The  Dahcotah  saw  clearly  enough 
the  perturbation  of  the  emigrants,  and  instantly  availed 
themselves  of  it.  They  became  extremely  insolent  and 
exacting  in  their  demands.  It  has  become  an  estab- 
lished custom  with  them  to  go  to  the  camp  of  every 
party,  as  it  arrives  in  succession  at  the  fort,  and  demand 
a  feast.  Smoke's  village  had  come  with  this  express 
design,  having  made  several  days'  journey  with  no  other 
object  than  that  of  enjoying  a  cup  of  coffee  and  two  or 
three  biscuit.  So  the  "  feast "  was  demanded,  and  the 
emigrants  dared  not  refuse  it. 

One  evening,  about  sunset,  the  village  was  deserted. 
We  met  old  men,  warriors,  squaws,  and  children  in  gay 
attire,  trooping  off  to  the  encampment,  with  faces  of  an- 
ticipation ;  and,  arriving  here,  they  seated  themselves  in 
a  semicircle.  Smoke  occupied  the  centre,  with  his  war- 
riors on  either  hand ;  the  young  men  and  boys  came  next, 
and  the  squaws  and  children  formed  the  horns  of  the 
crescent.  The  biscuit  and  coffee  were  promptly  des- 
patched, the  emigrants  staring  open-mouthed  at  their 
savage  guests.  With  each  emigrant  party  that  arrived 
at  Fort  Laramie  this  scene  was  renewed  ;  and  every  day 
the  Indians  grew  more  rapacious  and  presumptuous.  One 
evening  they  broke  in  pieces,  out  of  mere  wantonness,  the 
cups  from  which  they  had  been  feasted ;  and  this  so  ex- 
asperated the  emigrants,  that  many  of  them  seized  their 
rifles  and  could  scarcely  be  restrained  from  firing  on  the 
insolent  mob  of  Indians.  Before  we  left  the  country  this 
dangerous  spirit  on  the  part  of  the  Dahcotah  had  mounted 
to  a  yet  higher  pitch.  They  began  openly  to  threaten  the 


SCENES   AT    FORT   LARAMIE.  109 

emigrants  with  destruction,  and  actually  fired  upon  one  or 
two  parties  of  them.  A  military  force  and  military  law 
are  urgently  called  for  in  that  perilous  region ;  and  unless 
troops  are  speedily  stationed  at  Fort  Laramie,  or  else- 
where in  the  neighborhood,  both  emigrants  and  other 
travellers  will  be  exposed  to  most  imminent  risks. 

The  Ogillallah,  the  Brule*,  and  the  other  western  bands 
of  the  Dahcotah  or  Sioux,  are  thorough  savages,  un- 
changed by  any  contact  with  civilization.  Not  one  of 
them  can  speak  a  European  tongue,  or  has  ever  visited  an 
American  settlement.  Until  within  a  year  or  two,  when 
the  emigrants  began  to  pass  through  their  country  on  the 
way  to  Oregon,  they  had  seen  no  whites,  except  the  few 
employed  about  the  Fur  Company's  posts.  They  thought 
them  a  wise  people,  inferior  only  to  themselves,  living  in 
leather  lodges,  like  their  own,  and  subsisting  on  buffalo. 
But  when  the  swarm  of  MeneasJca,  with  their  oxen  and 
wagons,  began  to  invade  them,  their  astonishment  was 
unbounded.  '  They  could  scarcely  believe  that  the  earth 
contained  such  a  multitude  of  white  men.  Their  wonder 
is  now  giving  way  to  indignation ;  and  the  result,  unless 
vigilantly  guarded  against,  may  be  lamentable  in  the 
extreme. 

But  to  glance  at  the  interior  of  a  lodge.  Shaw  and  I 
used  often  to  visit  them.  Indeed  we  spent  most  of  our 
evenings  in  the  Indian  village,  Shaw's  assumption  of  the 
medical  character  giving  us  a  fair  pretext.  As  a  sample 
of  the  rest  I  will  describe  one  of  these  visits.  The  sun 
had  just  set,  and  the  horses  were  driven  into  the  corral. 
The  Prairie  Cock,  a  noted  beau,  came  in  at  the  gate 
with  a  bevy  of  young  girls,  with  whom  he  began  a  dance 
in  the  area,  leading  them  round  and  round  in  a  circle, 
while  he  jerked  up  from  his  chest  a  succession  of  monot- 
onous sounds,  to  which  they  kept  time  in  a  rueful  chant. 


110  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

Outside  the  gate  boys  and  young  men  were  idly  frolicking 
and  close  by,  looking  grimly  upon  them,  stood  a  warrior 
in  his  robe,  with  his  face  painted  jet-black,  in  token  that 
he  had  lately  taken  a  Pawnee  scalp.  Passing  these,  the 
tall  dark  lodges  rose  between  us  and  the  red  western  sky. 
We  repaired  at  once  to  the  lodge  of  Old  Smoke  himself. 
It  was  by  no  means  better  than  the  others ;  indeed,  it  was 
rather  shabby ;  for  in  this  democratic  community  the  chief 
never  assumes  superior  state.  Smoke  sat  cross-legged  on 
a  buffalo-robe,  and  his  grunt  of  salutation  as  we  entered 
was  unusually  cordial,  out  of  respect  no  doubt  to  Shaw's 
medical  character.  Seated  around  the  lodge  were  several 
squaws,  and  an  abundance  of  children.  The  complaint 
of  Shaw's  patients  was,  for  the  most  part,  a  severe  inflam- 
mation of  the  eyes,  occasioned  by  exposure  to  the  sun,  a 
species  of  disorder  which  he  treated  with  some  success. 
He  had  brought  with  him  a  homoeopathic  medicine-chest, 
and  was,  I  presume,  the  first  who  introduced  that  harm- 
less system  of  treatment  among  the  Ogillallah.  No  sooner 
had  a  robe  been  spread  at  the  head  of  the  lodge  for  our 
accommodation,  and  we  had  seated  ourselves  upon  it, 
than  a  patient  made  her  appearance :  the  chief's  daughter 
herself,  who,  to  do  her  justice,  was  the  best-looking  girl 
in  the  village.  Being  on  excellent  terms  with  the  physi- 
cian, she  placed  herself  readily  under  his  hands,  and  sub- 
mitted with  a  good  grace  to  his  applications,  laughing  in 
.his  face  during  the  whole  process,  for  a  squaw  hardly 
knows  how  to  smile.  This  case  despatched,  another  of 
a  different  kind  succeeded.  A  hideous,  emaciated  old  wo- 
man sat  in  the  darkest  corner  of  the  lodge,  rocking  to  and 
fro  with  pain,  and  hiding  her  eyes  from  the  light  by  press- 
ing the  palms  of  both  hands  against  her  face.  At  Smoke's 
command  she  came  forward,  very  unwillingly,  and  ex- 
hibited a  pair  of  eyes  that  had  nearly  disappeared  from 


SCENES  AT  FORT  LARAMIE.        Ill 

excess  of  inflammation.  No  sooner  had  the  doctor  fast- 
ened his  grip  upon  her,  than  she  set  up  a  dismal  moan- 
ing, and  writhed  so  in  his  grasp  that  he  lost  all  patience ; 
hut  being  resolved  to  carry  his  point,  he  succeeded  at 
last  in  applying  his  favorite  remedies. 

"  It  is  strange,"  he  said,  when  the  operation  was  fin- 
ished, "  that  I  forgot  to  bring  any  Spanish  flies  with  me ; 
we  must  have  something  here  to  answer  for  a  counter- 
irritant." 

So,  in  the  absence  of  better,  he  seized  upon  a  red-hot 
brand  from  the  fire,  and  clapped  it  against  the  temple  of 
the  old  squaw,  who  set  up  an  unearthly  howl,  at  which 
the  rest  of  the  family  broke  into  a  laugh. 

During  these  medical  operations  Smoke's  eldest  squaw 
entered  the  lodge,  with  a  mallet  in  her  hand,  the  stone 
head  of  which,  precisely  like  those  sometimes  ploughed 
up  in  the  fields  of  New  England,  was  made  fast  to  the 
handle  by  a  covering  of  raw  hide.  I  had  observed  some 
time  before  a  litter  of  well-grown  black  puppies,  comfort- 
ably nestled  among  some  buffalo-robes  at  one  side ;  but 
this  new-comer  speedily  disturbed  their  enjoyment ;  for 
seizing  one  of  them  by  the  hind  paw,  she  dragged  him 
out,  and  carrying  him  to  the  entrance  of  the  lodge,  ham- 
mered him  on  the  head  till  she  killed  him.  Conscious  to 
what  this  preparation  tended,  I  looked  through  a  hole  in 
the  back  of  the  lodge  to  see  the  next  steps  of  the  process. 
The  squaw,  holding  the  puppy  by  the  legs,  was  swinging 
him  to  and  fro  through  the  blaze  of  a  fire,  until  the  hair 
was  singed  off.  This  done,  she  unsheathed  her  knife  and 
cut  him  into  small  pieces,  which  she  dropped  into  a  kettle 
to  boil.  In  a  few  moments  a  large  wooden  dish  was  set 
before  us,  filled  with  this  delicate  preparation.  A  dog- 
feast  is  the  greatest  compliment  a  Dahcotah  can  offer  to 
his  guest ;  and,  knowing  that  to  refuse  eating  would  be  an 


112  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

affront,  we  attacked  the  little  dog,  and  devoured  him 
before  the  eyes  of  his  unconscious  parent.  Smoke  in  the 
mean  time  was  preparing  his  great  pipe.  It  was  lighted 
when  we  had  finished  our  repast,  and  we  passed  it  from 
one  to  another  till  the  bowl  was  empty.  This  done,  we 
took  our  leave  without  farther  ceremony,  knocked  at 
the  gate  of  the  fort,  and  after  making  ourselves  known, 
were  admitted. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   WAR  PARTIES. 

THE  summer  of  1846  was  a  season  of  warlike  excite- 
ment among  all  the  western  bands  of  the  Dahcotah. 
In  1845  they  encountered  great  reverses.  Many  war 
parties  had  been  sent  out ;  some  of  them  had  been  cut 
off,  and  others  had  returned  broken  and  disheartened ;  so 
that  the  whole  nation  was  in  mourning.  Among  the  rest, 
ten  warriors  had  gone  to  the  Snake  country,  led  by  the 
son  of  a  prominent  Ogillallah  chief,  called  The  Whirlwind. 
In  passing  over  Laramie  Plains  they  encountered  a  supe- 
rior number  of  their  enemies,  were  surrounded,  and  killed 
to  a  man.  Having  performed  this  exploit,  the  Snakes 
became  alarmed,  dreading  the  resentment  of  the  Dahcotah ; 
and  they  hastened  therefore  to  signify  their  wish  for  peace 
by  sending  the  scalp  of  the  slain  partisan,  with  a  small 
parcel  of  tobacco  attached,  to  his  tribesmen  and  relations. 
They  had  employed  old  Vaskiss,  the  trader,  as  their  mes- 
senger, and  the  scalp  was  the  same  that  hung  in  our 
room  at  the  fort.  But  The  Whirlwind  proved  inexorable. 
Though  his  character  hardly  corresponds  with  his  name, 
he  is  nevertheless  an  Indian,  and  hates  the  Snakes  with  his 
whole  soul.  Long  before  the  scalp  arrived,  he  had  made 
his  preparations  for  revenge.  He  sent  messengers  with 
presents  and  tobacco  to  all  the  Dahcotah  within  three 
hundred  miles,  proposing  a  grand  combination  to  chastise 
the  Snakes,  and  naming  a  place  and  time  of  rendezvous. 


114  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

The  plan  was  readily  adopted,  and  at  this  moment  many 
villages,  probably  embracing  in  the  whole  five  or  six 
thousand  souls,  were  slowly  creeping  over  the  prairies 
and  tending  toward  the  common  centre  at  "  La  Bonte°s 
camp,"  on  the  Platte.  Here  their  warlike  rites  were  to 
be  celebrated  with  more  than  ordinary  solemnity,  and  a 
thousand  warriors,  as  it  was  said,  were  to  set  out  for 
the  enemy's  country.  The  characteristic  result  of  this 
preparation  will  appear  in  the  sequel. 

I  was  greatly  rejoiced  to  hear  of  it.  I  had  come  into 
the  country  chiefly  with  a  view  of  observing  the  Indian 
character.  To  accomplish  my  purpose  it  was  necessary 
to  live  in  the  midst  of  them,  and  become,  as  it  were,  one 
of  them.  I  proposed  to  join  a  village,  and  make  myself 
an  inmate  of  one  of  their  lodges ;  and  henceforward  this 
narrative,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  will  be  chiefly  a  record 
of  the  progress  of  this  design,  and  the  unexpected  impedi- 
ments that  opposed  it. 

We  resolved  on  no  account  to  miss  the  rendezvous  at 
"La  Bonte*'s  camp."  Our  plan  was  to  leave  Deslauriers 
at  the  fort,  in  charge  of  our  equipage  and  the  better  part 
of  our  horses,  while  we  took  with  us  nothing  but  our 
weapons  and  the  worst  animals  we  had.  In  all  proba- 
bility, jealousies  and  quarrels  would  arise  among  so  many 
hordes  of  fierce  impulsive  savages,  congregated  together 
under  no  common  head,  and  many  of  them  strangers 
from  remote  prairies  and  mountains.  We  were  bound  in 
common  prudence  to  be  cautious  how  we  excited  any  feel- 
ing of  cupidity.  This  was  our  plan  ;  but  unhappily  we 
were  not  destined  to  visit  "La  Bond's  camp"  in  this 
manner,  for  one  morning  a  young  Indian  came  to  the 
fort  and  brought  us  evil  tidings.  The  new-comer  was  an 
arrant  dandy.  His  ugly  face  was  painted  with  vermilion  ; 
on  his  head  fluttered  the  tail  of  a  prairie-cock  (a  large 


THE    WAR   PARTIES.  115 

species  of  pheasant,  not  found,  as  I  have  heard,  eastward 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains)  ;  in  his  ears  were  hung  pen- 
dants of  shell,  and  a  flaming  red  blanket  was  wrapped 
around  him.  He  carried  a  dragoon-sword  in  his  hand, 
solely  for  display,  since  the  knife,  the  arrow,  and  the  rifle 
are  the  arbiters  of  every  prairie  fight ;  but  as  no  one  in 
this  country  goes  abroad  unarmed,  the  dandy  carried  a 
bow  and  arrows  in  an  otter-skin  quiver  at  his  back.  In 
this  guise,  and  bestriding  his  yellow  horse  with  an  air  of 
extreme  dignity,  "  The  Horse,"  for  that  was  his  name, 
rode  in  at  the  gate,  turning  neither  to  the  right  nor  the 
left,  but  casting  glances  askance  at  the  groups  of  squaws 
who,  with  their  mongrel  progeny,  were  sitting  in  the  sun 
before  their  doors.  The  evil  tidings  brought  by  "  The 
Horse  "  were  of  the  following  import :  The  squaw  of 
Henry  Chatillon,  a  woman  with  whom  he  had  been  con- 
nected for  years  by  the  strongest  ties  which  in  that  coun- 
try exist  between  the  sexes,  was  dangerously  ill.  She 
and  her  children  were  in  the  village  of  The  Whirlwind,  at 
the  distance  of  a  few  da}^s'  journey.  Henry  was  anxious 
to  see  the  woman  before  she  died,  and  provide  for  the 
safety  and  support  of  his  children,  of  whom  he  was  ex- 
tremely fond.  To  have  refused  him  this  would  have 
been  inhumanity.  We  abandoned  our  plan  of  joining 
Smoke's  village,  and  proceeding  with  it  to  the  rendez- 
vous, and  determined  to  meet  The  Whirlwind,  and  go  in 
his  company. 

I  had  been  slightly  ill  for  several  weeks,  but  on  the 
third  night  after  reaching  Fort  Laramie  a  violent  pain 
awoke  me,  and  I  found  myself  attacked  by  the  same  dis- 
order that  occasioned  such  heavy  losses  to  the  army  on 
the  Rio  Grande.  In  a  day  and  a  half  I  was  reduced  to 
extreme  weakness,  so  that  I  could  not  walk  without  pah? 
and  effort.  Having  no  medical  adviser,  nor  any  choica 


116  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

of  diet,  I  resolved  to  throw  myself  upon  Providence  for 
recovery,  using,  without  regard  to  the  disorder,  any  por- 
tion of  strength  that  might  remain  to  me.  So  on  the 
twentieth  of  June  we  set  out  from  Fort  Laramie  to  meet 
The  Whirlwind's  village.  Though  aided  by  the  high- 
bowed  "  mountain-saddle,"  I  could  scarcely  keep  my  seat 
on  horseback.  Before  we  left  the  fort  we  hired  another 
man,  a  long-haired  Canadian,  named  Raymond,  with  a 
face  like  an  owl's,  contrasting  oddly  enough  with  Des- 
lauriers's  mercurial  countenance.  This  was  not  the  only 
reinforcement  to  our  party.  A  vagrant  Indian  trader, 
named  Reynal,  joined  us,  together  with  his  squaw,  Mar- 
got,  and  her  two  nephews,  our  dandy  friend,  "The 
Horse,"  and  his  younger  brother,  "  The  Hail  Storm." 
Thus  accompanied,  we  betook  ourselves  to  the  prairie, 
leaving  the  beaten  trail,  and  passing  over  the  desolate 
hills  that  flank  the  valley  of  Laramie  Creek.  In  all, 
Indians  and  whites,  we  counted  eight  men  and  one 
woman. 

Reynal,  the  trader,  the  image  of  sleek  and  selfish  con- 
placency,  carried  "The  Horse's"  dragoon-sword  in  his 
hand,  delighting  apparently  in  this  useless  parade  ;  for, 
from  spending  half  his  life  among  Indians,  he  had  caught 
not  only  their  habits  but  their  ideas.  Margot,  a  female 
animal  of  more  than  two  hundred  pounds*  weight,  was 
couched  in  the  basket  of  a  traineau,  such  as  I  have  before 
described ;  besides  her  ponderous  bulk,  various  domestic 
utensils  were  attached  to  the  vehicle,  and  she  led  by  a 
trail-rope  a  packhorse,  which  carried  the  covering  of 
Reynal's  lodge.  Deslauriers  walked  briskly  by  the  side 
of  the  cart,  and  Raymond  came  behind,  swearing  at  the 
spare  horses  which  it  was  his  business  to  drive.  The 
restless  young  Indians,  their  quivers  at  their  backs  and 
their  bows  in  their  hands,  galloped  over  the  hills,  often 


THE   WAK   PARTIES.  117 

starting  a  wolf  or  an  antelope  from  the  thick  growth  of 
wild-sage  bushes.  Shaw  and  I  were  in  keeping  with  the 
rest  of  the  rude  cavalcade,  having  in  the  failure  of  other 
clothing  adopted  the  buckskin  attire  of  the  trappers. 
Henry  Chatillon  rode  in  advance  of  the  whole.  Thus  we 
passed  hill  after  hill  and  hollow  after  hollow,  a  country 
arid,  broken,  and  so  parched  by  the  sun  that  none  of  the 
plants  familiar  to  our  more  favored  soil  would  flourish 
upon  it,  though  there  were  multitudes  of  strange  medici- 
nal herbs,  more  especially  the  absinth,  which  covered 
every  declivity,  while  cacti  were  hanging  like  reptiles  at 
the  edges  of  every  ravine.  At  length  we  ascended  a  high 
hill,  our  horses  treading  upon  pebbles  of  flint,  agate,  and 
rough  jasper,  until,  gaining  the  top,  we  looked  down  on 
the  wild  bottoms  of  Laramie  Creek,  which  far  below  us 
wound  like  a  writhing  snake  from  side  to  side  of  the 
narrow  interval,  amid  a  growth  of  shattered  cotton-wood 
and  ash  trees.  Lines  of  tall  cliffs,  white  as  chalk,  shut 
in  this  green  strip  of  woods  and  meadow-land,  into  which 
we  descended  and  encamped  for  the  night.  In  the  morn- 
ing we  passed  a  wide  grassy  plain  by  the  river ;  there 
was  a  grove  in  front,  and  beneath  its  shadows  the  ruins 
of  an  old  trading  fort  of  logs.  The  grove  bloomed  with 
myriads  of  wild  roses,  with  their  sweet  perfume  fraught 
with  recollections  of  home.  As  we  emerged  from  the 
trees,  a  rattlesnake,  as  large  as  a  man's  arm,  and  more 
than  four  feet  long,  lay  coiled  on  a  rock,  fiercely  rattling 
and  hissing  at  us ;  a  gray  hare,  twice  as  large  as  those 
of  New  England,  leaped  up  from  the  tall  ferns ;  cm-lew 
flew  screaming  over  our  heads,  and  a  host  of  little  prairie- 
dogs  sat  yelping  at  us  at  the  mouths  of  their  burrows  on 
the  dry  plain  beyond.  Suddenly  an  antelope  leaped  up 
from  the  wild-sage  bushes,  gazed  eagerly  at  us,  and  then, 
erecting  his  white  tail,  stretched  away  like  a  greyhound. 


118  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

The  two  Indian  boys  found  a  white  wolf,  as  large  as  a 
calf,  in  a  hollow,  and,  giving  a  sharp  yell,  they  galloped 
after  him ;  but  the  wolf  leaped  into  the  stream  and  swam 
across.  Then  came  the  crack,  of  a  rifle,  the  bullet- 
whistling  harmlessly  over  his  head,  as  he  scrambled  up 
the  steep  declivity,  rattling  down  stones  and  earth  into 
the  water  below.  Advancing  a  little,  we  beheld,  on  the 
farther  bank  of  the  stream,  a  spectacle  not  common  even 
in  that  region ;  for,  emerging  from  among  the  trees,  a 
herd  of  some  two  hundred  elk  came  out  upon  the  meadow, 
their  antlers  clattering  as  they  walked  forward  in  a  dense 
throng.  Seeing  us,  they  broke  into  a  run,  rushing  across 
the  opening  and  disappearing  among  the  trees  and  scat- 
tered groves.  On  our  left  was  a  barren  prairie,  stretching 
to  the  horizon ;  on  our  right,  a  deep  gulf,  with  Laramie 
Creek  at  the  bottom.  We  found  ourselves  at  length  al 
the  edge  of  a  steep  descent ;  a  narrow  valley,  with  long 
rank  grass  and  scattered  trees  stretching  before  us  for  a 
mile  or  more  along  the  course  of  the  stream.  Reaching 
the  farther  end,  we  stopped  and  encamped.  A  huge  old 
cotton-wood  tree  spread  its  branches  horizontally  over 
our  tent.  Laramie  Creek,  circling  before  our  camp,  half 
inclosed  us ;  it  swept  along  the  bottom  of  a  line  of  tall 
white  cliffs  that  looked  down  on  us  from  the  farther  bank. 
There  were  dense  copses  on  our  right;  the  cliffs,  too, 
were  half  hidden  by  bushes,  though  behind  us  a  few 
cotton-wood  trees,  dotting  the  green  prairie,  alone  im- 
peded the  view,  and  friend  or  enemy  could  be  discerned 
in  that  direction  at  a  mile's  distance.  Here  we  resolved 
to  remain  and  await  the  arrival  of  The  Whirlwind,  who 
would  certainly  pass  this  way  in  his  progress  towards  La 
Bonte°s  camp.  To  go  in  search  of  him  was  not  expedi- 
ent, both  on  account  of  the  broken  and  impracticable 
nature  of  the  country,  and  the  uncertainty  of  his  position 


THE   WAR   PARTIES.  119 

and  movements;  besides,  our  horses  were  almost  worn 
out,  and  I  was  in  no  condition  to  travel.  We  had  good 
grass,  good  water,  tolerable  fish  from  the  stream,  and 
plenty  of  small  game,  such  as  antelope  and  deer,  though 
no  buffalo.  There  was  one  little  drawback  to  our  satis- 
faction: a  certain  extensive  tract  of  bushes  and  dried 
grass,  just  behind  us,  which  it  was  by  no  means  advisable 
to  enter,  since  it  sheltered  a  numerous  brood  of  rattle- 
snakes. Henry  Chatillon  again  despatched  "  The  Horse  " 
to  the  village,  with  a  message  to  his  squaw  that  she  and 
her  relatives  should  leave  the  rest  and  push  on  as  rapidly 
as  possible  to  our  camp. 

Our  daily  routine  soon  became  as  regular  as  that  of  a 
well-ordered  household.  The  weather-beaten  old  tree 
was  in  the  centre  ;  our  rifles  generally  rested  against  its 
vast  trunk,  and  our  saddles  were  flung  on  the  ground 
around  it ;  its  distorted  roots  were  so  twisted  as  to  form 
one  or  two  convenient  arm-chairs,  where  we  could  sit  in 
the  shade  and  read  or  smoke ;  but  meal-times  became,  on 
the  whole,  the  most  interesting  hours  of  the  day,  and  a 
bountiful  provision  was  made  for  them.  An  antelope  or  a 
deer  usually  swung  from  a  bough,  and  haunches  were  sus- 
pended against  the  trunk.  That  camp  is  daguerreotyped 
on  my  memory :  the  old  tree,  the  white  tent,  with  Shaw 
sleeping  in  the  shadow  of  it,  and  Reynal's  miserable  lodge 
close  by  the  bank  of  the  stream.  It  was  a  wretched  oven- 
shaped  structure,  made  of  begrimed  and  tattered  buffalo- 
hides  stretched  over  a  frame  of  poles  ;  one  side  was  open, 
and  at  the  side  of  the  opening  hung  the  powder-horn  and 
bullet-pouch  of  the  owner,  together  with  his  long  red  pipe, 
and  a  rich  quiver  of  otter-skin,  with  a  bow  and  arrows ; 
for  Keynal,  an  Indian  in  most  things  but  color,  chose  to 
hunt  buffalo  with  these  primitive  weapons.  In  the  dark- 
ness of  this  cavern-like  habitation  might  be  discerned 


120  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

Madame  Margot,  her  overgrown  bulk  stowed  away  among 
her  domestic  implements,  furs,  robes,  blankets,  and  painted 
cases  of  raw  hide,  in  which  dried  meat  is  kept.  Here  she 
sat  from  sunrise  to  sunset,  an  impersonation  of  gluttony 
and  laziness,  while  her  affectionate  proprietor  was  smok- 
ing, or  begging  petty  gifts  from  us,  or  telling  lies  concern- 
ing his  own  achievements,  or  perchance  engaged  in  the 
more  profitable  occupation  of  cooking  some  preparation 
of  prairie  delicacies.  Keynal  was  an  adept  at  this  work ; 
he  and  Deslauriers  have  joined  forces,  and  are  hard  at 
work  together  over  the  fire,  while  Raymond  spreads,  by 
way  of  table-cloth,  a  buffalo-hide  carefully  whitened  with 
pipe-clay,  on  the  grass  before  the  tent.  Here  he  arranges 
the  teacups  and  plates ;  and  then,  creeping  on  all  fours, 
like  a  dog,  thrusts  his  head  in  at  the  opening  of  the  tent. 
For  a  moment  we  see  his  round  owlish  eyes  rolling  wildly, 
as  if  the  idea  he  came  to  communicate  had  suddenly  es- 
caped him ;  then  collecting  his  scattered  thoughts,  as  if 
by  an  effort,  he  informs  us  that  supper  is  ready,  and 
instantly  withdraws. 

When  sunset  came,  and  at  that  hour  the  wild  and  des- 
olate scene  would  assume  a  new  aspect,  the  horses  were 
driven  in.  They  had  been  grazing  all  day  in  the  neighbor- 
ing meadow,  but  now  they  were  picketed  close  about  the 
camp.  As  the  prairie  darkened  we  sat  and  conversed 
around  the  fire,  until,  becoming  drowsy,  we  spread  our 
saddles  on  the  ground,  wrapped  our  blankets  around  us, 
and  lay  down.  We  never  placed  a  guard,  having  by  this 
time  become  too  indolent ;  but  Henry  Chatillon  folded  his 
loaded  rifle  in  the  same  blanket  with  himself,  observing 
that  he  always  took  it  to  bed  with  him  when  he  'camped 
in  that  place.  Henry  was  too  bold  a  man  to  use  such  a 
precaution  without  good  cause.  We  had  a  hint  now  and 
then  that  our  situation  was  none  of  the  safest;  several 


THE   WAR   PARTIES.  121 

Crow  war-parties  were  known  to  be  in  the  vicinity,  and 
one  of  them,  that  passed  here  some  time  before,  had 
peeled  the  bark  from  a  neighboring  tree,  and  engraved 
upon  the  white  wood  certain  hieroglyphics,  to  signify,  that 
they  had  invaded  the  territories  of  their  enemies,  the 
Dahcotah,  and  set  them  at  defiance.  One  morning  a  thick 
mist  covered  the  whole  country.  Shaw  and  Henry  went 
out  to  ride,  and  soon  came  back  with  a  startling  piece  of 
intelligence  ;  they  had  found  within  rifle-shot  of  our  camp 
the  recent  trail  of  about  thirty  horsemen.  They  could 
not  be  whites,  and  they  could  not  be  Dahcotah,  since  we 
knew  no  such  parties  to  be  in  the  neighborhood ;  there- 
fore they  must  be  Crows,  Thanks  to  that  friendly  mist, 
we  had  escaped  a  hard  battle ;  they  would  inevitably  have 
attacked  us  and  our  Indian  companions  had  they  seen  our 
camp.  Whatever  doubts  we  might  have  entertained,  were 
removed  a  day  or  two  after,  by  two  or  three  Dahcotah, 
who  came  to  us  with  an  account  of  having  hidden  in  a 
ravine  on  that  very  morning,  from  whence  they  saw  and 
counted  the  Crows ;  they  said  that  they  followed  them, 
carefully  keeping  out  of  sight,  as  they  passed  up  Chug- 
water  ;  that  here  the  Crows  discovered  five  dead  bodies 
of  Dahcotah,  placed  according  to  custom  in  trees,  and 
flinging  them  to  the  ground,  held  their  guns  against  them 
and  blew  them  to  atoms. 

If  our  camp  were  not  altogether  safe,  still  it  was  com- 
fortable enough ;  at  least  it  was  so  to  Shaw,  for  I  was 
tormented  with  illness  and  vexed  by  the  delay  in  the  ac- 
complishment of  my  designs.  When  a  respite  in  my  dis- 
order gave  me  some  returning  strength,  I  rode  out  well 
armed  upon  the  prairie,  or  bathed  with  Shaw  in  the  stream, 
or  waged  a  petty  warfare  with  the  inhabitants  of  a  neigh- 
boring prairie-dog  village.  Around  our  fire  at  night  we 
employed  ourselves  in  inveighing  against  the  fickleness 


122  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

and  inconstancy  of  Indians,  and  execrating  The  Whirl- 
wind and  all  his  crew.  At  last  the  thing  grew  insuffer- 
able. 

"  To-morrow  morning,"  said  I,  "  I  will  start  for  the 
fort,  and  see  if  I  can  hear  any  news  there."  Late  that 
evening,  when  the  fire  had  sunk  low,  and  all  the  camp 
were  asleep,  a  loud  cry  sounded  from  the  darkness. 
Henry  leaped  up,  recognized  the  voice,  replied  to  it,  and 
our  dandy  friend,  "  The  Horse,"  rode  in  among  us,  just 
returned  from  his  mission  to  the  village.  He  coolly 
picketed  his  mare,  without  saying  a  word,  sat  down  by 
the  fire  and  began  to  eat,  but  his  imperturbable  philosophy 
was  too  much  for  our  patience.  Where  was  the  village  ? 
— about  fifty  miles  south  of  us;  it  was  moving  slowly,  and 
would  not  arrive  in  less  than  a  week.  And  where  was 
Henry's  squaw? —  coming  as  fast  as  she  could  withMahto- 
Tatonka,  and  the  rest  of  her  brothers,  but  she  would 
never  reach  us,  for  she  was  dying,  and  asking  every  mo- 
ment for  Henry.  Henry's  manly  face  became  clouded 
and  downcast ;  he  said  that  if  we  were  willing  he  would 
go  in  the  morning  to  find  her,  at  which  Shaw  offered  to 
accompany  him. 

We  saddled  our  horses  at  sunrise.  Reynal  protested 
vehemently  against  being  left  alone,  with  nobody  but  the 
two  Canadians  and  the  young  Indians,  when  enemies  were 
in  the  neighborhood.  Disregarding  his  complaints,  we 
left  him,  and,  coming  to  the  mouth  of  Chugwater,  sepa- 
rated, Shaw  and  Henry  turning  to  the  right,  up  the  bank 
of  the  stream,  while  I  made  for  the  fort. 

Taking  leave  for  a  while  of  my  friend  and  the  unfortu- 
nate squaw,  I  will  relate  by  way  of  episode  what  I  saw  and 
did  at  Fort  Laramie.  It  was  not  more  than  eighteen  miles 
distant,  and  I  reached  it  in  three  hours.  A  shrivelled 
little  figure,  wrapped  from  head  to  foot  in  a  dingy  white 


THE   WAR   PARTIES.  123 

Canadian  capote,  stood  in  the  gateway,  holding  by  a  cord 
of  bull-hide  a  shaggy  wild-horse,  which  he  had  lately 
caught.  His  sharp  prominent  features,  and  his  keen 
snake-like  eyes,  looked  out  from  beneath  the  shadowy 
hood  of  the  capote,  which  was  drawn  over  his  head  like 
the  cowl  of  a  Capuchin  friar.  His  face  was  like  an  old 
piece  of  leather,  and  his  mouth  spread  from  ear  to  ear. 
Extending  his  long  wiry  hand,  he  welcomed  me  with 
something  more  cordial  than  the  ordinary  cold  salute  of 
an  Indian,  for  we  were  excellent  friends.  We  had  made 
an  exchange  of  horses  to  our  mutual  advantage;  and 
Paul,  thinking  himself  well  treated,  had  declared  every- 
where that  the  white  man  had  a  good  heart.  He  was  a 
Dahcotah  from  the  Missouri,  a  reputed  son  of  the  half- 
breed  interpreter,  Pierre  Dorion,  so  often  mentioned  in 
Irving's  "  Astoria."  He  said  that  he  was  going  to  Rich 
ard's  trading-house  to  sell  his  horse  to  some  emigrants, 
who  were  encamped  there,  and  asked  me  to  go  with  him. 
We  forded  the  stream  together,  Paul  dragging  his  wild 
charge  behind  him.  As  we  passed  over  the  sandy  plains 
beyond,  he  grew  communicative.  Paul  was  a  cosmopol- 
itan in  his  way ;  he  had  been  to  the  settlements  of  the 
whites,  and  visited  in  peace  and  war  most  of  the  tribes 
within  the  range  of  a  thousand  miles.  He  spoke  a  jargon 
of  French  and  another  of  English,  yet  nevertheless  he 
was  a  thorough  Indian;  and  as  he  told  of  the  bloody 
deeds  of  his  own  people  against  their  enemies,  his  little 
eyes  would  glitter  with  a  fierce  lustre.  He  told  how  the 
Dahcotah  exterminated  a  village  of  the  Hohays  on  the 
Upper  Missouri,  slaughtering  men,  women,  and  children ; 
and  how,  in  overwhelming  force,  they  cut  off  sixteen  of 
the  brave  Delawares,  who  fought  like  wolves  to  the  last, 
amid  the  throng  of  their  enemies.  He  told  me  also  an- 
other story,  which  I  did  not  believe  until  I  had  heard  it 


124  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

confirmed  from  so  many  independent  sources  that  my 
skepticism  was  almost  overcome. 

Six  years  ago,  a  fellow  named  Jim  Beckworth,  a  mon- 
grel of  French,  American,  and  negro  blood,  was  trading 
for  the  Fur  Company,  in  a  large  village  of  the  Crows.    Jim 
Beckworth  was  last  summer  at  St.  Louis.     He  is  a  ruffian 
of   the  worst  stamp;  bloody  and   treacherous,  without 
honor  or  honesty ;  such  at  least  is  the  character  he  bears 
upon  the  prairie.     Yet  in  his  case  the  standard  rules  of 
character  fail,  for  though  he  will  stab  a  man  in  his  sleep, 
he  will  also  perform   most   desperate   acts   of  daring; 
such,  for  instance,  as  the  following:  While  he  was  in 
the  Crow  village,  a  Blackfoot  war-party,  between  thirty 
and  forty  in  number,  came  stealing  through  the  coun- 
try, killing  stragglers   and  carrying   off  horses.     The 
Crow  warriors  got  upon  their  trail  and  pressed  them  so 
closely  that  they  could  not  escape,  at  which  the  Black- 
feet,  throwing  up  a  semi-circular  breastwork  of  logs  at 
the  foot  of  a  precipice,  coolly  awaited  their  approach. 
The  logs  and  sticks,  piled  four  or  five  feet  high,  protected 
them  in  front.     The  Crows  might  have  swept  over  the 
breastwork  and  exterminated  their  enemies ;  but  though 
outnumbering  them  tenfold,  they  did  not  dream  of  storm- 
ing the  little  fortification.     Such  a  proceeding  would  be 
altogether  repugnant  to  their  notions  of  warfare.   Whoop- 
ing and  yelling,  and  jumping  from  side  to  side  like  devils 
incarnate,  they  showered  bullets  and  arrows  upon  the 
logs ;  not  a  Blackfoot  was  hurt,  but  several  Crows,  in 
spite  of  their  leaping  and  dodging,  were  shot  down.     In 
this  childish  manner,  the  fight  went  on  for  an  hour  or 
two.     Now  and  then  a  Crow  warrior  in  an  ecstasy  of 
valor  and  vainglory  would  scream  forth  his  war-song, 
boast  himself  the   bravest   and   greatest   of   mankind, 
grasp  his  hatchet,  rush  up,  strike  it  upon  the  breastwork, 


THE   WAR   PARTIES.  125 

and  then  as  he  retreated  to  his  companions,  fall  dead 
tinder  a  shower  of  arrows ;  yet  no  combined  attack  was 
made.  The  Blackfeet  remained  secure  in  their  intrench- 
ment.  At  last  Jim  Beckworth  lost  patience. 

"  You  are  all  fools  and  old  women,"  he  said  to  the 
Crows ;  "  come  with  me,  if  any  of  you  are  brave  enough, 
and  I  will  show  you  how  to  fight." 

He  threw  off  his  trapper's  frock  of  buckskin  and 
stripped  himself  naked,  like  the  Indians  themselves.  He 
left  his  rifle  on  the  ground,  took  in  his  hand  a  small  light 
hatchet,  and  ran  over  the  prairie  to  the  right,  concealed 
by  a  hollow  from  the  eyes  of  the  Blackfeet.  Then  climb- 
ing up  the  rocks,  he  gained  the  top  of  the  precipice  behind 
them.  Forty  or  fifty  young  Crow  warriors  followed  him. 
By  the  cries  and  whoops  that  rose  from  below  he  knew 
that  the  Blackfeet  were  just  beneath  him ;  and  running 
forward  he  leaped  down  the  rock  into  the  midst  of  them. 
As  he  fell  he  caught  one  by  the  long  loose  hair,  and 
dragging  him  down  tomahawked  him;  then  grasping 
another  by  the  belt  at  his  waist,  he  struck  him  also  a 
stunning  blow,  and,  gaining  his  feet,  shouted  the  Crow 
war-cry.  He  swung  his  hatchet  so  fiercely  around  him, 
that  the  astonished  Blackfeet  bore  back  and  gave  him 
room.  He  might,  had  he  chosen,  have  leaped  over  the 
breastwork  and  escaped  ,•  but  this  was  not  necessary,  for 
with  devilish  yells  the  Crow  warriors  came  dropping  in 
quick  succession  over  the  rock  among  their  enemies.  The 
main  body  of  the  Crows,  too,  answered  the  cry  from  the 
front,  and  rushed  up  simultaneously.  The  convulsive 
struggle  within  the  breastwork  was  frightful ;  for  an  in- 
stant the  Blackfeet  fought  and  yelled  like  pent-up  tigers ; 
but  the  butchery  was  soon  complete,  and  the  mangled 
bodies  lay  piled  together  under  the  precipice.  Not  a 
Blackfoot  made  his  escape. 


126  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

As  Paul  finished  his  story  we  came  in  sight  of  Rich- 
ard's Fort,  a  disorderly  crowd  of  men  around  it,  and  an 
emigrant  camp  a  little  in  front. 

"  Now,  Paul,"  said  I,  "  where  are  your  Minnicongew 
lodges?" 

"  Not  come  yet,"  said  Paul ;  "  maybe  come  to-morrow. v 

Two  large  villages  of  a  band  of  Dahcotah  had  come 
three  hundred  miles  from  the  Missouri,  to  join  in  the  war, 
and  they  were  expected  to  reach  Richard's  that  morning. 
There  was  as  yet  no  sign  of  their  approach ;  so  pushing 
through  a  noisy,  drunken  crowd,  I  entered  an  apartment 
of  logs  and  mud,  the  largest  in  the  fort :  it  was  full  of 
men  of  various  races  and  complexions,  all  more  or  less 
drunk.  A  company  of  California  emigrants,  it  seemed, 
had  made  the  discovery  at  this  late  day  that  they  had 
encumbered  themselves  with  too  many  supplies  for  their 
journey.  A  part,  therefore,  they  had  thrown  away,  or  sold 
at  great  loss  to  the  traders ;  but  had  determined  to  get  rid 
of  their  very  copious  stock  of  Missouri  whiskey,  by  drink- 
ing it  on  the  spot.  Here  were  maudlin  squaws  stretched 
on  piles  of  buffalo-robes ;  squalid  Mexicans,  armed  with 
bows  and  arrows  ;  Indians  sedately  drunk ;  long-haired 
Canadians  and  trappers,  and  American  backwoodsmen  in 
brown  homespun,  the  well-beloved  pistol  and  bowie-knife 
displayed  openly  at  their  sides.  In  the  middle  of  the 
room  a  tall,  lank  man,  with  a  dingy  broadcloth  coat,  was 
haranguing  the  company  in  the  style  of  the  stump  orator. 
With  one  hand  he  sawed  the  air,  and  with  the  other 
clutched  firmly  a  brown  jug  of  whiskey,  which  he  applied 
every  moment  to  his  lips,  forgetting  that  he  had  drained 
the  contents  long  ago.  Richard  formally  introduced  me 
to  this  personage,  who  was  no  less  a  man  than  Colonel 
R ,  once  the  leader  of  the  party.  Instantly  the  Colo- 
nel seizing  me,  in  the  absence  of  buttons,  by  the  leather 


THE    WAR   PARTIES.  127 

fringes  of  my  frock,  began  to  define  his  position.  His 
men,  he  said,  had  mutinied  and  deposed  him ;  but  still 
he  exercised  over  them  the  influence  of  a  superior  mind ; 
in  all  but  the  name  he  was  yet  their  chief.  As  the  Colo- 
nel spoke,  I  looked  round  on  the  wild  assemblage,  and 
could  not  help  thinking  that  he  was  but  ill  fitted  to  con- 
duct such  men  across  the  deserts  to  California.  Con- 
spicuous among  the  rest  stood  three  tall  young  men, 
grandsons  of  Daniel  Boone.  They  had  clearly  inherited 
the  adventurous  character  of  that  prince  of  pioneers ;  but 
I  saw  no  signs  of  the  quiet  and  tranquil  spirit  that  so 
remarkably  distinguished  him. 

Fearful  was  the  fate  that,  months  after,  overtook  some 
of  the  members  of  that  party.  General  Kearney,  on  his 
late  return  from  California,  brought  back  their  story. 
They  were  interrupted  by  the  deep  snows  among  the 
mountains,  and,  maddened  by  cold  and  hunger,  fed  upon 
each  other's  flesh ! 

I  got  tired  of  the  confusion.  "  Come,  Paul,"  said  I, 
"  we  will  be  off."  Paul  sat  in  the  sun,  under  the  wall 
of  the  fort.  He  jumped  up,  mounted,  and  we  rode 
towards  Fort  Laramie.  When  we  reached  it,  a  man 
came  out  of  the  gate  with  a  pack  at  his  back  and  a  rifle 
on  his  shoulder ;  others  were  gathering  about  him,  shak- 
ing him  by  the  hand,  as  if  taking  leave.  I  thought  it  a 
strange  thing  that  a  man  should  set  out  alone  and  on 
foot  for  the  prairie.  I  soon  got  an  explanation.  Per- 
rault  —  this,  if  I  recollect  right,  was  the  Canadian's 
name  —  had  quarrelled  with  the  bourgeois,  and  the  fort 
was  too  hot  to  hold  him.  Bordeaux,  inflated  with  his 
transient  authority,  had  abused  him,  and  received  a  blow 
in  return.  The  men  then  sprang  at  each  other,  and 
grappled  in  the  middle  of  the  fort.  Bordeaux  was  down 
in  an  instant,  at  the  mercy  of  the  incensed  Canadian ; 


128  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

had  not  an  old  Indian,  the  brother  of  his  squaw,  seized 
hold  of  his  antagonist,  it  would  have  fared  ill  with  him. 
Perrault  broke  loose  from  the  old  Indian,  and  both  the 
white  men  ran  to  their  rooms  for  their  guns ;  but  when 
Bordeaux,  looking  from  his  door,  saw  the  Canadian,  gun 
in  hand,  standing  in  the  area  and  calling  on  him  to  come 
out  and  fight,  his  heart  failed  him ;  he  chose  to  remain 
where  he  was.  In  vain  the  old  Indian,  scandalized  by 
his  brother-in-law's  cowardice,  called  upon  him  to  go  to 
the  prairie  and  fight  it  out  in  the  white  man's  manner ; 
and  Bordeaux's  own  squaw,  equally  incensed,  screamed 
to  her  lord  and  master  that  he  was  a  dog  and  an  old 
woman.  It  all  availed  nothing.  Bordeaux's  prudence 
got  the  better  of  his  valor,  and  he  would  not  stir.  Per- 
rault stood  showering  opprobrious  epithets  at  the  recreant 
"bourgeois,  till,  growing  tired  of  this,  he  made  up  a  pack  of 
dried  meat,  and,  slinging  it  at  his  back,  set  out  alone  for 
Fort  Pierre,  on  the  Missouri,  a  distance  of  three  hundred 
miles,  over  a  desert  country,  full  of  hostile  Indians. 

I  remained  in  the  fort  that  night.  In  the  morning,  as 
I  was  coming  out  from  breakfast,  talking  with  a  trader 
named  McCluskey,  I  saw  a  strange  Indian  leaning  against 
the  side  of  the  gate.  He  was  a  tall,  strong  man,  with 
heavy  features. 

"Who  is  he?"  I  asked. 

"  That's  The  Whirlwind,"  said  McCluskey.  "  He  is 
the  fellow  that  made  all  this  stir  about  the  war.  It's 
always  the  way  with  the  Sioux  ;  they  never  stop  cutting 
each  other's  throats ;  it's  all  they  are  fit  for ;  instead  of 
sitting  in  their  lodges,  and  getting  robes  to  trade  with  us 
in  the  winter.  If  this  war  goes  on,  we'll  make  a  poor 
trade  of  it  next  season,  I  reckon." 

And  this  was  the  opinion  of  all  the  traders,  who  were 
vehemently  opposed  to  the  war,  from  the  injury  that  it 


THE    WAR   PARTIES.  129 

must  occasion  to  their  interests.  The  Whirlwind  left  his 
village  the  day  before  to  make  a  visit  to  the  fort.  His 
warlike  ardor  had  abated  not  a  little  since  he  first  con- 
ceived the  design  of  avenging  his  son's  death.  The  long 
and  complicated  preparations  for  the  expedition  were  too 
much  for  his  fickle  disposition.  That  morning  Bordeaux 
fastened  upon  him,  made  him  presents,  and  told  him  that 
if  he  went  to  war  he  would  destroy  his  horses  and  kill  no 
buffalo  to  trade  with  the  white  men  ;  in  short,  that  he  was 
a  fool  to  think  of  such  a  thing,  and  had  better  make  up 
his  mind  to  sit  quietly  in  his  lodge  and  smoke  his  pipe, 
like  a  wise  man.  The  Whirlwind's  purpose  was  evidently 
shaken ;  he  had  become  tired,  like  a  child,  of  his  favorite 
plan.  Bordeaux  exultingly  predicted  that  he  would  not 
go  to  war.  My  philanthropy  was  no  match  for  my  curi- 
osity, and  I  was  vexed  at  the  possibility  that  after  all  I 
might  lose  the  rare  opportunity  of  seeing  the  ceremonies 
of  war.  The  Whirlwind,  however,  had  merely  thrown  the 
firebrand ;  the  conflagration  was  become  general.  All  the 
western  bands  of  the  Dahcotah  were  bent  on  war ;  and, 
as  I  heard  from  McCluskey,  six  large  villages  were  already 
gathered  on  a  little  stream,  forty  miles  distant,  and 
were  daily  calling  to  the  Great  Spirit  to  aid  them  in  their 
enterprise.  McCluskey  had  just  left  them,  and  repre- 
sented them  as  on  their  way  to  La  Bonte"s  camp,  which 
they  would  reach  in  a  week,  unless  they  should  learn  that 
there  were  no  buffalo  there.  I  did  not  like  this  condition, 
for  buffalo  this  season  were  rare  in  the  neighborhood. 
There  were  also  the  two  Minnicongew  villages  that  I 
mentioned  before ;  but  about  noon,  an  Indian  came  from 
Richard's  Fort  with  the  news  that  they  were  quarrelling, 
breaking  up,  and  dispersing.  So  much  for  the  whiskey  of 
the  emigrants !  Finding  themselves  unable  to  drink  the 
whole,  they  had  sold  the  residue  to  these  Indians,  and  it 

9 


130  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

needed  no  prophet  to  foretell  the  result ;  a  spark  dropped 
into  a  powder-magazine  would  not  have  produced  a 
quicker  effect.  Instantly  the  old  jealousies  and  rivalries 
and  smothered  feuds  that  exist  in  an  Indian  village  broke 
out  into  furious  quarrels.  They  forgot  the  warlike  en- 
terprise that  had  already  brought  them  three  hundred 
miles.  They  seemed  like  ungoverned  children  inflamed 
with  the  fiercest  passions  of  men.  Several  of  them  were 
stabbed  in  the  drunken  tumult ;  and  in  the  morning  they 
scattered  and  moved  back  towards  the  Missouri  in  small 
parties.  I  feared  that,  after  all,  the  long-projected  meet- 
ing and  the  ceremonies  that  were  to  attend  it  might 
never  take  place,  and  I  should  lose  so  admirable  an  op- 
portunity of  seeing  the  Indian  under  his  most  fearful 
and  characteristic  aspect ;  however,  in  foregoing  this,  I 
should  avoid  a  very  fair  probability  of  being  plundered 
and  stripped,  and  it  might  be,  stabbed  or  shot  into  the 
bargain.  Consoling  myself  with  this  reflection,  I  pre- 
pared to  carry  the  news,  such  as  it  was,  to  the  camp. 

I  caught  my  horse,  and  to  my  vexation  found  that  he 
had  lost  a  shoe  and  broken  his  hoof  against  the  rocks. 
Horses  are  shod  at  Fort  Laramie  at  the  moderate  rate 
of  three  dollars  a  foot ;  so  I  tied  Hendrick  to  a  beam  in 
the  corral,  and  summoned  Roubidou,  the  blacksmith. 
Roubidou,  with  the  hoof  between  his  knees,  was  at  work 
with  hammer  and  file,  and  I  was  inspecting  the  process, 
when  a  strange  voice  addressed  me. 

"  Two  more  gone  under !  Well,  there's  more  of  us 
left  yet.  Here's  Gingras  and  me  off  to  the  mountains 
to-morrow.  Our  turn  will  come  next,  I  suppose.  It's 
a  hard  life,  anyhow  ! " 

I  looked  up  and  saw  a  man,  not  much  more  than  five 
feet  high,  but  of  very  square  and  strong  proportions.  In 
appearance  he  was  particularly  dingy ;  for  his  old  buck- 


THE   WAR   PARTIES.  131 

skin  frock  was  black  and  polished  with  time  and  grease, 
and  his  belt,  knife,  pouch,  and  powder-horn  appeared  to 
have  seen  the  roughest  service.  The  first  joint  of  each 
foot  was  entirely  gone,  having  been  frozen  off  several 
winters  before,  and  his  moccasins  were  curtailed  in  pro- 
portion. His  whole  appearance  and  equipment  bespoke 
the  "  free  trapper."  He  had  a  round  ruddy  face,  ani- 
mated with  a  spirit  of  carelessness  and  gayety  not  at  all 
in  accordance  with  the  words  he  had  just  spoken. 

" '  Two  more  gone,' "  said  I ;  "  what  do  you  mean  by 
that?" 

"  Oh,  the  Arapahoes  have  just  killed  two  of  us  in  the 
mountains.  Old  Bull-Tail  has  come  to  tell  us.  They 
stabbed  one  behind  his  back,  and  shot  the  other  with  his 
own  rifle.  That's  the  way  we  live  here  I  I  mean  to 
give  up  trapping  after  this  year.  My  squaw  says  she 
wants  a  pacing  horse  and  some  red  ribbons :  I'll  make 
enough  beaver  to  get  them  for  her,  and  then  I'm  done ! 
I'll  go  below  and  live  on  a  farm." 

"  Your  bones  will  dry  on  the  prairie,  Rouleau !  "  said 
another  trapper,  who  was  standing  by ;  a  strong,  brutal- 
looking  fellow,  with  a  face  as  surly  as  a  bull-dog's. 

Rouleau  only  laughed,  and  began  to  hum  a  tune  and 
shuffle  a  dance  on  his  stumps  of  feet. 

"You'll  see  us,  before  long,  passing  up  your  way," 
said  the  other  man. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  stop  and  take  a  cup  of  coffee  with 
us ; "  and,  as  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  I  prepared  to 
leave  the  fort  at  once. 

As  I  rode  out,  a  train  of  emigrant  wagons  was  passing 
across  the  stream.  "Whar  are  ye  goin',  stranger?" 
Thus  I  was  saluted  by  two  or  three  voices  at  once. 

"  About  eighteen  miles  up  the  creek." 

"  It's  mighty  late  to  be  going  that  far  I  Make  haste, 
ve'd  better,  and  keep  a  bright  look-out  for  Indians  I  " 


132  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

I  thought  the  advice  too  good  to  be  neglected.  Fording 
the  stream,  I  passed  at  a  round  trot  over  the  plains  beyond. 
But  "  the  more  haste,  the  worse  speed."  I  proved  the 
truth  of  the  proverb  by  the  time  I  reached  the  hills  three 
miles  from  the  fort.  The  trail  was  faintly  marked,  and, 
riding  forward  with  more  rapidity  than  caution,  I  lost 
sight  of  it.  I  kept  on  in  a  direct  line,  guided  by  Laramie 
Creek,  which  I  could  see  at  intervals  darkly  glistening  in 
the  evening  sun,  at  the  bottom  of  the  woody  gulf  on  my 
right.  Half  an  hour  before  sunset  I  came  upon  its  banks. 
There  was  something  exciting  in  the  wild  solitude  of  the 
place.  An  antelope  sprang  suddenly  from  the  sage- 
bushes  before  me.  As  he  leaped  gracefully  not  thirty 
yards  before  my  horse,  I  fired,  and  instantly  he  spun 
round  and  fell.  Quite  sure  of  him,  I  walked  my  horse 
towards  him,  leisurely  reloading  my  rifle,  when,  to  my 
surprise  he  sprang  up  and  trotted  rapidly  away  on  three 
legs,  into  the  dark  recesses  of  the  hills,  whither  I  had  no 
time  to  follow.  Ten  minutes  after,  I  was  passing  along 
the  bottom  of  a  deep  valley,  and,  chancing  to  look  behind 
me,  I  saw  in  the  dim  light  that  something  was  following. 
Supposing  it  to  be  a  wolf,  I  slid  from  my  seat  and  sat 
down  behind  my  horse  to  shoot  it ;  but  as  it  came  up,  I  saw 
by  its  motions  that  it  was  another  antelope.  It  approached 
within  ahundred  yards,  arched  its  neck,  andgazedintently. 
I  levelled  at  the  white  spot  on  its  chest,  and  was  about  to 
fire,  when  it  started  off,  ran  first  to  one  side  and  then  to  the 
other,  like  a  vessel  tacking  against  the  wind,  and  at  last 
stretched  away  at  full  speed.  Then  it  stopped  again, 
looked  curiously  behind  it,  and  trotted  up  as  before ;  but 
not  so  boldly,  for  it  soon  paused  and  stood  gazing  at  me.  I 
fired ;  it  leaped  upward  and  fell  upon  its  tracks.  Measur- 
ing the  distance,  I  found  it  two  hundred  and  four  paces. 
When  I  stood  by  his  side,  the  antelope  turned  his  expiring 


THE   WAR   PARTIES.  133 

eye  upward.  It  was  like  a  beautiful  woman's,  dark  and 
bright.  "  Fortunate  that  I  am  in  a  hurry,"  thought  I ;  "  7 
might  be  troubled  with  remorse,  if  I  had  time  for  it." 

Cutting  the  animal  up,  not  in  the  most  skilful  manner, 
I  hung  the  meat  at  the  back  of  my  saddle,  and  rode  on 
again.  The  hills  (I  could  not  remember  one  of  them) 
closed  around  me.  "It  is  too  late,"  thought  I,  "  to  go 
forward.  I  will  stay  here  to-night,  and  look  for  the  path 
in  the  morning."  As  a  last  effort,  however,  I  ascended  a 
high  hill,  from  which,  to  my  great  satisfaction,  I  could  see 
Laramie  Creek  stretching  before  me,  twisting  from  side  to 
side  amid  ragged  patches  of  timber ;  and  far  off,  close 
beneath  the  shadows  of  the  trees,  the  ruins  of  the  old 
trading-fort  were  visible.  I  reached  them  at  twilight.  It 
was  far  from  pleasant,  in  that  uncertain  light,  to  be  push- 
ing through  the  dense  trees  and  bushes  of  the  grove 
beyond.  I  listened  anxiously  for  the  foot-fall  of  man 
or  beast.  Nothing  was  stirring  but  one  harmless  brown 
bird,  chirping  among  the  branches.  I  was  glad  when  I 
gained  the  open  prairie  once  more,  where  I  could  see  if 
any  thing  approached.  When  I  came  to  the  mouth  of 
Chugwater,  it  was  totally  dark.  Slackening  the  reins,  I 
let  my  horse  take  his  own  course.  He  trotted  on  with 
unerring  instinct,  and  by  nine  o'clock  was  scrambling 
down  the  steep  descent  into  the  meadows  where  we  were 
encamped.  While  I  was  looking  in  vain  for  the  light  of 
the  fire,  Hendrick,  with  keener  perceptions,  gave  a  loud 
neigh,  which  was  immediately  answered  by  another  neigh 
from  the  distance.  In  a  moment  I  was  hailed  from  the 
darkness  by  the  voice  of  Reynal,  who  had  come  out,  rifle 
in  hand,  to  see  who  was  approaching. 

He,  with  his  squaw,  the  two  Canadians,  and  the  Indian 
boys,  were  the  sole  inmates  of  the  camp,  Shaw  and  Henry 
Chatillon  being  still  absent.  At  noon  of  the  following 


THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

day  they  came  back,  their  horses  looking  none  the  better 
for  the  journey.  Henry  seemed  dejected.  The  woman 
was  dead,  and  his  children  must  henceforward  be  exposed, 
without  a  protector,  to  the  hardships  and  vicissitudes  of 
Indian  life.  Even  in  the  midst  of  his  grief  he  had  not 
forgotten  his  attachment  to  his  bourgeois,  for  he  had  pro- 
cured among  his  Indian  relatives  two  beautifully  orna- 
mented buffalo-robes,  which  he  spread  on  the  ground  as  a 
present  to  us. 

Shaw  lighted  his  pipe,  and  told  me  in  a  few  words  the 
history  of  his  journey.  When  I  went  to  the  fort  they 
left  me,  as  I  mentioned,  at  the  mouth  of  Chugwater. 
They  followed  the  course  of  the  little  stream  all  day, 
traversing  a  desolate  and  barren  country.  Several  times 
they  came  upon  the  fresh  traces  of  a  large  war-party,  the 
same,  no  doubt,  from  whom  we  had  so  narrowly  escaped 
an  attack.  At  an  hour  before  sunset,  without  encounter- 
ing a  human  being  by  the  way,  they  came  upon  the  lodges 
of  the  squaw  and  her  brothers,  who,  in  compliance  with 
Henry's  message,  had  left  the  Indian  village,  in  order  to 
join  us  at  our  camp.  The  lodges  were  already  pitched, 
five  in  number,  by  the  side  of  the  stream.  The  woman 
lay  in  one  of  them,  reduced  to  a  mere  skeleton.  For 
some  time  she  had  been  unable  to  move  or  speak. 
Indeed,  nothing  had  kept  her  alive  but  the  hope  of  see- 
ing Henry,  to  whom  she  was  strongly  and  faithfully 
attached.  No  sooner  did  he  enter  the  lodge  than  she 
revived,  and  conversed  with  him  the  greater  part  of  the 
night.  Early  in  the  morning  she  was  lifted  into  a  trai- 
neau,  and  the  whole  party  set  out  towards  our  camp. 
There  were  but  five  warriors ;  the  rest  were  women  and 
children.  The  whole  were  in  great  alarm  at  the  prox- 
imity of  the  Crow  war-party,  who  would  certainly  have 
killed  them  without  mercy  had  they  met.  They  had 


THE   WAR  PARTIES.  135 

advanced  only  a  mile  or  two,  when  they  discerned  a 
horseman,  far  off,  on  the  edge  of  the  horizon.  They  all 
stopped,  gathering  together  in  the  greatest  anxiety,  from 
which  they  did  not  recover  until  long  after  the  horseman 
disappeared ;  then  they  set  out  again.  Henry  was  riding 
with  Shaw  a  few  rods  in  advance  of  the  Indians,  when 
Mahto-Tatonka,  a  younger  brother  of  the  woman,  hastily 
called  after  them.  Turning  back,  they  found  all  the  In- 
dians crowded  around  the  traineau  in  which  the  woman 
was  lying.  They  reached  her  just  in  time  to  hear  the 
death-rattle  in  her  throat.  In  a  moment  she  lay  dead  in 
the  basket  of  the  vehicle.  A  complete  stillness  suc- 
ceeded ;  then  the  Indians  raised  in  concert  their  cries  of 
lamentation  over  the  corpse,  and  among  them  Shaw 
clearly  distinguished  those  strange  sounds  resembling  the 
word  u  Halleluyah,"  which,  together  with  some  other  acci- 
dental coincidences,  has  given  rise  to  the  absurd  notion 
that  the  Indians  are  descended  from  the  ten  lost  tribes  of 
Israel. 

The  Indian  usage  required  that  Henry,  as  well  as  the 
other  relatives  of  the  woman,  should  make  valuable  pres- 
ents, to  be  placed  by  the  side  of  the  body  at  its  last  rest- 
ing-place. Leaving  the  Indians,  he  and  Shaw  set  out 
for  the  camp,  and  reached  it,  as  we  have  seen,  by  hard 
pushing,  at  about  noon.  Having  obtained  the  neces- 
sary articles,  they  immediately  returned.  It  was  very 
late  and  quite  dark  when  they  again  reached  the  lodges. 
They  were  all  placed  in  a  deep  hollow  among  dreaiy 
hills.  Four  of  them  were  just  visible  through  the  gloom, 
but  the  fifth  and  largest  was  illumined  by  the  blaze  of 
a  fire  within,  glowing  through  the  half -transparent  cover- 
ing of  raw  hides.  There  was  a  perfect  stillness  as  they 
approached.  The  lodges  seemed  without  a  tenant.  Not 
a  living  thing  was  stirring ;  there  was  something  awful 


136  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

in  the  scene.  They  rode  up  to  the  entrance  of  the  lodge, 
and  there  was  no  sound  but  the  tramp  of  their  horses. 
A  squaw  came  out  and  took  charge  of  the  animals,  with- 
out speaking  a  word.  Entering,  they  found  the  lodge 
crowded  with  Indians ;  a  fire  was  burning  in  the  midst, 
and  the  mourners  encircled  it  in  a  triple  row.  Room  was 
made  for  the  new-comers  at  the  head  of  the  lodge,  a  robe 
spread  for  them  to  sit  upon,  and  a  pipe  lighted  and  handed 
to  them  in  perfect  silence.  Thus  they  passed  the  greater 
part  of  the  night.  At  times  the  fire  would  subside  into  a 
heap  of  embers,  until  the  dark  figures  seated  around  it 
were  scarcely  visible  ;  then  a  squaw  would  drop  upon  it  a 
piece  of  buffalo-fat,  and  a  bright  flame  instantly  spring- 
ing up,  would  reveal  the  crowd  of  wild  faces,  motionless 
as  bronze.  The  silence  continued  unbroken.  It  was  a 
relief  to  Shaw  when  daylight  returned  and  he  could  es- 
cape from  this  house  of  mourning.  He  and  Henry  pre- 
pared to  return  home  ward ;  first,  however,  they  placed  the 
presents  they  had  brought  near  the  body  of  the  squaw, 
which,  gaudily  attired,  remained  in  a  sitting  posture 
in  one  of  the  lodges.  A  fine  horse  was  picketed  not 
far  off,  destined  to  be  killed  that  morning  for  the  service 
of  her  spirit ;  for  the  woman  was  lame,  and  could  not 
travel  on  foot  over  the  dismal  prairies  to  the  villages  of 
the  dead.  Food,  too,  was  provided,  and  household  imple- 
ments, for  her  use  upon  this  last  journey. 

Henry  left  her  to  the  care  of  her  relatives,  and  came 
immediately  with  Shaw  to  the  camp.  It  was  some  time 
before  he  entirely  recovered  from  his  dejection. 


CHAPTER  XL 

SCENES    AT  THE  CAMP. 

T")  EY"NAL  heard  guns  fired  one  day,  at  the  distance  of 
XV  a  mile  or  two  from  the  camp.  He  grew  nervous 
instantly.  Visions  of  Crow  war-parties  began  to  haunt 
his  imagination ;  and  when  we  returned  (for  we  were  all 
absent),  he  renewed  his  complaints  about  being  left 
alone  with  the  Canadians  and  the  squaw.  The  day  after, 
the  cause  of  the  alarm  appeared.  Four  trappers,  called 
Morin,  Saraphin,  Rouleau,  and  Gingras,  came  to  our 
camp  and  joined  us.  They  it  was  who  fired  the  guns  and 
disturbed  the  dreams  of  our  confederate  Reynal.  They 
soon  encamped  by  our  side.  Their  rifles,  dingy  and  bat- 
tered with  hard  service,  rested  with  ours  against  the  old 
tree ;  their  strong  rude  saddles,  their  buffalo-robes,  their 
traps,  and  the  few  rough  and  simple  articles  of  their  travel- 
ling equipment  were  piled  near  our  tent.  Their  mountain- 
horses  were  turned  to  graze  in  the  meadow  among  our 
own ;  and  the  men  themselves,  no  less  rough  and  hardy, 
used  to  lie  half  the  day  in  the  shade  of  our  tree,  lolling 
on  the  grass,  lazily  smoking,  and  telling  stories  of  their 
adventures  ;  and  I  defy  the  annals  of  chivalry  to  furnish 
the  record  of  a  life  more  wild  and  perilous  than  that  of  a 
Rocky  Mountain  trapper. 

With  this  efficient  reinforcement  the  agitation  of  Rey- 
nal's  nerves  subsided.  We  began  to  conceive  a  sort  of 
attachment  to  our  old  camping  ground ;  yet  it  was  time 


138  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

to  change  our  quarters,  since  remaining  too  long  on  one 
spot  must  lead  to  unpleasant  results,  not  to  be  borne 
unless  in  case  of  dire  necessity.  The  grass  no  longer 
presented  a  smooth  surface  of  turf ;  it  was  trampled  into 
mud  and  clay.  So  we  removed  to  another  old  tree,  larger 
yet,  that  grew  by  the  side  of  the  river  a  furlong  distant. 
Its  trunk  was  full  six  feet  in  diameter ;  on  one  side  it  was 
marked  by  a  party  of  Indians  with  various  inexplicable 
hieroglyphics,  commemorating  some  warlike  enterprise, 
and  aloft  among  the  branches  were  the  remains  of  a 
scaffold,  where  dead  bodies  had  once  been  deposited, 
after  the  Indian  manner. 

"  There  comes  Bull-Bear,"  said  Henry  Chatillon,  as  we 
sat  on  the  grass  at  dinner.  Looking  up,  we  saw  several 
horsemen  coming  over  the  neighboring  hill,  and  in  a 
moment  four  stately  young  men  rode  up  and  dismounted. 
One  of  them  was  Bull-Bear,  or  Mahto-Tatonka,  a  com- 
pound name  which  he  inherited  from  his  father,  the  prin- 
cipal chief  in  the  Ogillallah  band.  One  of  his  brothers 
and  two  other  young  men  accompanied  him.  We  shook 
hands  with  the  visitors,  and  when  we  had  finished  our 
meal  —  for  this  is  the  approved  manner  of  entertaining 
Indians,  even  the  best  of  them  —  we  handed  to  each  a 
tin  cup  of  coffee  and  a  biscuit,  at  which  they  ejaculated 
from  the  bottom  of  their  throats,  "  How !  how !  "  a  mono- 
syllable by  which  an  Indian  contrives  to  express  half  the 
emotions  of  which  he  is  susceptible.  Then  we  lighted 
the  pipe,  and  passed  it  to  them  as  they  squatted  on  the 
ground. 

"  Where  is  the  village  ?  " 

"  There,"  said  Mahto-Tatonka,  pointing  southward ; 
"  it  will  come  in  two  days." 

"  Will  they  go  to  the  war?" 

"Yes." 


SCENES   AT    THE    CAMP.  139 

No  man  is  a  philanthropist  on  the  prairie.  We  wel- 
comed this  news  cordially,  and  congratulated  ourselves 
that  Bordeaux's  interested  efforts  to  divert  The  Whirlwind 
from  his  congenial  vocation  of  bloodshed  had  failed  of 
success,  and  that  no  further  obstacles  would  interpose 
between  us,  and  our  plan  of  repairing  to  the  rendezvous 
at  La  Bontd's  camp. 

For  that  and  several  succeeding  days,  Mahto-Tatonka 
and  his  friends  remained  our  guests.  They  devoured 
the  relics  of  our  meals ;  they  filled  the  pipe  for  us,  and 
also  helped  us  to  smoke  it.  Sometimes  they  stretched 
themselves  side  by  side  in  the  shade,  indulging  in  raillery 
and  equivocal  jokes,  ill  becoming  the  dignity  of  brave  and 
aspiring  warriors,  such  as  two  of  them  in  reality  were. 

Two  days  dragged  away,  and  on  the  morning  of  the 
third  we  hoped  confidently  to  see  the  Indian  village.  It 
did  not  come ;  so  we  rode  out  to  look  for  it.  In  place  of 
the  eight  hundred  Indians  we  expected,  we  met  one  soli- 
tary savage  riding  towards  us  over  the  prairie,  who  told 
us  that  the  Indians  had  changed  their  plan,  and  would 
not  come  within  three  days.  Taking  along  with  us  this 
messenger  of  evil  tidings,  we  retraced  our  footsteps  to 
the  camp,  amusing  ourselves  by  the  way  with  execrating 
Indian  inconstancy.  When  we  came  in  sight  of  our  little 
white  tent  under  the  big  tree,  we  saw  that  it  no  longer 
stood  alone.  A  huge  old  lodge  was  erected  by  its  side, 
discolored  by  rain  and  storms,  rotten  with  age,  with  the 
uncouth  figures  of  horses  and  men  and  outstretched  hands 
that  were  painted  upon  it,  well  nigh  obliterated.  The 
long  poles  which  supported  this  squalid  habitation  thrust 
themselves  rakishly  out  from  its  pointed  top,  and  over  its 
entrance  were  suspended  a  "  medicine-pipe  "  and  various 
other  implements  of  the  magic  art.  While  we  were  yet 
at  a  distance,  we  observed  a  greatly  increased  population 


140  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

of  various  colors  and  dimensions,  swarming  about  our 
quiet  encampment.  Morin,  the  trapper,  having  been 
absent  for  a  day  or  two,  had  returned,  it  seemed,  bringing 
all  his  family  with  him.  He  had  taken  to  himself  a  wife, 
for  whom  he  had  paid  the  established  price  of  one  horse. 
This  looks  cheap  at  first  sight,  but  in  truth  the  purchase 
of  a  squaw  is  a  transaction  which  no  man  should  enter 
into  without  mature  deliberation,  since  it  involves  not 
only  the  payment  of  the  price,  but  the  burden  of  feeding 
and  supporting  a  rapacious  horde  of  the  bride's  relatives, 
who  hold  themselves  entitled  to  feed  upon  the  indiscreet 
white  man.  They  gather  about  him  like  leeches,  and 
drain  him  of  all  he  has. 

Morin  had  not  made  an  aristocratic  match.  His  bride's 
relatives  occupied  but  a  contemptible  position  in  Ogillallah 
society;  for  among  these  democrats  of  the  prairie,  as 
among  others  more  civilized,  there  are  virtual  distinctions 
of  rank  and  place.  Morin 's  partner  was  not  the  most 
beautiful  of  her  sex,  and  he  had  the  bad  taste  to  array  her 
in  an  old  calico  gown,  bought  from  an  emigrant  woman, 
instead  of  the  neat  tunic  of  whitened  deer-skin  usually 
worn  by  the  squaws.  The  moving  spirit  of  the  estab- 
lishment was  an  old  hag  of  eighty.  Human  imagination 
never  conceived  hobgoblin  or  witch  more  ugly  than  she. 
You  could  count  all  her  ribs  through  the  wrinkles  of  her 
leathery  skin.  Her  withered  face  more  resembled  an  old 
skull  than  the  countenance  of  a  living  being,  even  to  the 
hollow,  darkened  sockets,  at  the  bottom  of  which  glittered 
her  little  black  eyes.  Her  arms  had  dwindled  into  noth- 
ing but  whip-cord  and  wire.  Her  hair,  half  black,  half 
gray,  hung  in  total  neglect  nearly  to  the  ground,  and  her 
sole  garment  consisted  of  the  remnant  of  a  discarded 
buffalo-robe  tied  round  her  waist  with  a  string  of  hide. 
Yet  the  old  squaw's  meagre  anatomy  was  wonderfully 


SCENES    AT    THE    CAMP.  141 

strong.  She  pitched  the  lodge,  packed  the  horses,  and 
did  the  hardest  labor  of  the  camp.  From  morning  till 
night  she  bustled  about  the  lodge,  screaming  like  a  screech- 
owl  when  any  thing  displeased  her.  Her  brother,  a  "  med- 
icine-man," or  magician,  was  equally  gaunt  and  sinewy 
with  herself.  His  mouth  spread  from  ear  to  ear,  and  his 
appetite,  as  we  had  occasion  to  learn,  was  ravenous  in 
proportion.  The  other  inmates  of  the  lodge  were  a  young 
bride  and  bridegroom,  the  latter  one  of  those  idle,  good- 
for-nothing  fellows  who  infest  an  Indian  village  as  well  as 
more  civilized  communities.  He  was  fit  neither  for  hunt- 
ing nor  war,  as  one  might  see  from  the  stolid  unmeaning 
expression  of  his  face.  The  happy  pair  had  just  entered 
upon  the  honeymoon.  They  would  stretch  a  buffalo-robe 
upon  poles,  to  protect  them  from  the  rays  of  the  sun,  and 
spreading  under  it  a  couch  of  furs,  would  sit  affectionately 
side  by  side  for  half  the  day,  though  I  could  not  discover 
that  much  conversation  passed  between  them.  Probably 
they  had  nothing  to  say ;  for  an  Indian's  supply  of  topics 
for  conversation  is  far  from  being  copious.  There  were 
half  a  dozen  children,  too,  playing  and  whooping  about 
the  camp,  shooting  birds  with  little  bows  and  arrows,  or 
making  miniature  lodges  of  sticks,  as  children  of  a  dif- 
ferent complexion  build  houses  of  blocks. 

A  day  passed,  and  Indians  began  rapidly  to  come  in. 
Parties  of  two,  three,  or  more  would  ride  up  and  silently 
seat  themselves  on  the  grass.  The  fourth  day  came  at  last, 
when  about  noon  horsemen  appeared  in  view  on  the  sum- 
mit of  the  neighboring  ridge.  Behind  followed  a  wild  pro- 
cession, hurrying  in  haste  and  disorder  down  the  hill  and 
over  the  plain  below ;  horses,  mules,  and  dogs  ;  heavily- 
burdened  traineaux,  mounted  warriors,  squaws  walking 
amid  the  throng,  and  a  host  of  children.  For  a  full  half- 
hour  they  continued  to  pour  down ;  and  keeping  directly 


142  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

to  the  bend  of  the  stream,  within  a  furlong  of  us,  they 
soon  assembled  there,  a  dark  and  confused  throng,  until, 
as  if  by  magic,  a  hundred  and  fifty  tall  lodges  sprang  up. 
The  lonely  plain  was  transformed  into  the  site  of  a  swarm- 
ing encampment.  Countless  horses  were  soon  grazing 
over  the  meadows  around  us,  and  the  prairie  was 
animated  by  restless  figures  careering  on  horseback,  or 
sedately  stalking  in  their  long  white  robes.  The  Whirl- 
wind was  come  at  last.  One  question  yet  remained  to  be 
answered :  "  Will  he  go  to  the  war  in  order  that  we,  with 
so  respectable  an  escort,  may  pass  over  to  the  somewhat 
perilous  rendezvous  at  La  Bont^'s  camp  ?  " 

This  still  remained  in  doubt.  Characteristic  indecision 
perplexed  their  councils.  Indians  cannot  act  in  large 
bodies.  Though  their  object  be  of  the  highest  impor- 
tance, they  cannot  combine  to  attain  it  by  a  series  of  con- 
nected efforts.  King  Philip,  Pontiac,  and  Tecumseh,  all 
felt  this  to  their  cost.  The  Ogillallah  once  had  a  war- 
chief  who  could  control  them;  but  he  was  dead,  and 
now  they  were  left  to  the  sway  of  their  own  unsteady 
impulses. 

As  this  Indian  village  and  its  inhabitants  will  hold  a 
prominent  place  in  the  rest  of  the  story,  perhaps  it  may 
not  be  amiss  to  glance  for  an  instant  at  the  savage  people 
of  which  they  form  a  part.  The  Dahcotah  or  Sioux  range 
over  a  vast  territory,  from  the  river  St.  Peter  to  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  They  are  divided  into  several  independent 
bands,  united  under  no  central  government,  and  acknowl- 
edging no  common  head.  The  same  language,  usages,  and 
superstitions  form  the  sole  bond  between  them.  They 
do  not  unite  even  in  their  wars.  The  bands  of  the  east 
fight  the  Objibwas  on  the  Upper  Lakes  ;  those  of  the  west 
make  incessant  war  upon  the  Snake  Indians  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  As  the  whole  people  is  divided  into  bands, 


SCENES   AT   THE    CAMP.  143 

BO  each  band  is  divided  into  villages.  Each  village  has  a 
chief,  who  is  honored  and  obeyed  only  so  far  as  his  per- 
sonal qualities  may  command  respect  and  fear.  Some- 
times he  is  a  mere  nominal  chief ;  sometimes  his  authority 
is  little  short  of  absolute,  and  his  fame  and  influence  reach 
beyond  his  own  village,  so  that  the  whole  band  to  which 
he  belongs  is  ready  to  acknowledge  him  as  their  head. 
This  was,  a  few  years  since,  the  case  with  the  Ogillallah. 
Courage,  address,  and  enterprise  may  raise  any  warrior 
to  the  highest  honor,  especially  if  he  be  the  son  of  a  for- 
mer chief,  or  a  member  of  a  numerous  family,  to  support 
him  and  avenge  his  quarrels ;  but  when  he  has  reached 
the  dignity  of  chief,  and  the  old  men  and  warriors,  by  a 
peculiar  ceremony,  have  formally  installed  him,  let  it  not 
be  imagined  that  he  assumes  any  of  the  outward  signs  of 
rank  and  honor.  He  knows  too  well  on  how  frail  a  tenure 
he  holds  his  station.  He  must  conciliate  his  uncertain 
subjects.  Many  a  man  in  the  village  lives  better,  owns 
more  squaws  and  more  horses,  and  goes  better  clad  than 
he.  Like  the  Teutonic  chiefs  of  old,  he  ingratiates  him- 
self with  his  young  men  by  making  them  presents,  there- 
by often  impoverishing  himself.  If  he  fails  to  gain  their 
favor,  they  will  set  his  authority  at  naught,  and  may 
desert  him  at  any  moment ;  for  the  usages  of  his  people 
have  provided  no  means  of  enforcing  his  authority.  Very 
seldom  does  it  happen,  at  least  among  these  western 
bands,  that  a  chief  attains  to  much  power,  unless  he  is 
the  head  of  a  numerous  family.  Frequently  the  village 
is  principally  made  up  of  his  relatives  and  descen- 
dants, and  the  wandering  community  assumes  much  of 
the  patriarchal  character. 

The  western  Dahcotah  have  no  fixed  habitations. 
Hunting  and  fighting,  they  wander  incessantly,  through 
summer  and  winter.  Some  follow  the  herds  of  buffalo 


144  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

over  the  waste  of  prairie ;  others  traverse  the  Black  Hills, 
thronging,  on  horseback  and  on  foot,  through  the  dark 
gulfs  and  sombre  gorges,  and  emerging  at  last  upon  the 
"Parks,"  those  beautiful  but  most  perilous  hunting- 
grounds.  The  buffalo  supplies  them  with  the  necessaries 
of  life ;  with  habitations,  food,  clothing,  beds,  and  fuel ; 
strings  for  their  bows,  glue,  thread,  cordage,  trail-ropes 
for  their  horses,  coverings  for  their  saddles,  vessels  to 
hold  water,  boats  to  cross  streams,  and  the  means  of  pur- 
chasing all  that  they  want  from  the  traders.  When  the 
buffalo  are  extinct,  they  too  must  dwindle  away. 

War  is  the  breath  of  their  nostrils.  Against  most  of 
the  neighboring  tribes  they  cherish  a  rancorous  hatred, 
transmitted  from  father  to  son,  and  inflamed  by  constant 
aggression  and  retaliation.  Many  times  a  year,  in  every 
village,  the  Great  Spirit  is  called  upon,  fasts  are  made, 
the  war-parade  is  celebrated,  and  the  warriors  go  out  by 
handfuls  at  a  time  against  the  enemy.  This  fierce  spirit 
awakens  their  most  eager  aspirations,  and  calls  forth  their 
greatest  energies.  It  is  chiefly  this  that  saves  them  from 
lethargy  and  utter  abasement.  Without  its  powerful 
stimulus  they  would  be  like  the  unwarlike  tribes  beyond 
the  mountains,  scattered  among  the  caves  and  rocks  like 
beasts,  and  living  on  roots  and  reptiles.  These  latter 
have  little  of  humanity  except  the  form  ;  but  the  proud 
and  ambitious  Dahcotah  warrior  can  sometimes  boast 
heroic  virtues.  It  is  seldom  that  distinction  and  influence 
are  attained  among  them  by  any  other  course  than  that 
of  arms.  Their  superstition,  however,  sometimes  gives 
great  power  to  those  among  them  who  pretend  to  the 
character  of  magicians ;  and  their  orators,  such  as  they 
are,  have  their  share  of  honor. 

But  to  return.  Look  into  our  tent,  or  enter,  if  you  can 
bear  the  stifling  smoke  and  the  close  air.  There,  wedged 


SCENES   AT    THE    CAMP.  145 

close  together,  you  will  see  a  circle  of  stout  warriors, 
passing  the  pipe  around,  joking,  telling  stories,  and  mak- 
ing themselves  merry  after  their  fashion.  We  were  also 
infested  by  little  copper-colored  naked  boys  and  snake- 
eyed  girls.  They  would  come  up  to  us,  muttering  certain 
words,  which  being  interpreted  conveyed  the  concise  in- 
vitation, "  Come  and  eat."  Then  we  would  rise,  cursing 
the  pertinacity  of  Dahcotah  hospitality,  which  allowed 
scarcely  an  hour  of  rest  between  sun  and  sun,  and  to 
which  we  were  bound  to  do  honor,  unless  we  would  offend 
our  entertainers.  This  necessity  was  particularly  bur- 
densome to  me,  as  I  was  scarcely  able  to  walk,  from  the 
effects  of  illness,  and  was  poorly  qualified  to  dispose  of 
twenty  meals  a  day.  So  bounteous  an  entertainment 
looks  like  an  outgushing  of  good-will;  but,  doubtless, 
half  at  least  of  our  kind  hosts,  had  they  met  us  alone  and 
unarmed  on  the  prairie,  would  have  robbed  us  of  our 
horses,  and  perhaps  have  bestowed  an  arrow  upon  us 
besides. 

One  morning  we  were  summoned  to  the  lodge  of  an 
old  man,  the  Nestor  of  his  tribe.  We  found  him  -half 
sitting,  half  reclining,  on  a  pile  of  buffalo-robes  ;  his  long 
hair,  jet-black,  though  he  had  seen  some  eighty  winters, 
hung  on  either  side  of  his  thin  features.  His  gaunt  but 
symmetrical  frame  did  not  more  clearly  exhibit  the  wreck 
of  by-gone  strength,  than  did  his  dark,  wasted  features, 
still  prominent  and  commanding,  bear  the  stamp  of  men- 
tal energies.  Opposite  the  patriarch  was  his  nephew,  the 
young  aspirant  Mahto-Tatonka ;  and  besides  these,  there 
were  one  or  two  women  in  the  lodge. 

The  old  man's  story  is  peculiar,  and  illustrative  of  a 
superstition  that  prevails  in  full  force  among  many  of  the 
Indian  tribes.  He  was  one  of  a  powerful  family,  re- 
nowned for  warlike  exploits.  When  a  very  young 

10 


146  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

he  submitted  to  the  singular  rite  to  which  most  of  the 
tribe  subject  themselves  before  entering  upon  life.  He 
painted  his  face  black ;  then  seeking  out  a  cavern  in  a 
sequestered  part  of  the  Black  Hills,  he  lay  for  several 
days,  fasting,  and  praying  to  the  spirits.  In  the  dreams 
and  visions  produced  by  his  weakened  and  excited  state, 
he  fancied,  like  all  Indians,  that  he  saw  supernatural 
revelations.  Again  and  again  the  form  of  an  antelope 
appeared  before  him.  The  antelope  is  the  graceful  peace- 
spirit  of  the  Ogillallah ;  but  seldom  is  it  that  such  a  gentle 
visitor  presents  itself  during  the  initiatory  fasts  of  their 
young  men.  The  terrible  grizzly  bear,  the  divinity  of 
war,  usually  appears  to  fire  them  with  martial  ardor  and 
thirst  for  renown.  At  length  the  antelope  spoke.  It 
told  the  young  dreamer  that  he  was  not  to  follow  the 
path  of  war ;  that  a  life  of  peace  and  tranquillity  was 
marked  out  for  him ;  that  thenceforward  he  was  to  guide 
the  people  by  his  counsels,  and  protect  them  from  the 
evils  of  their  own  feuds  and  dissensions.  Others  were  to 
gain  renown  by  fighting  the  enemy ;  but  greatness  of  a 
different  kind  was  in  store  for  him. 

The  visions  beheld  during  the  period  of  this  fast  usually 
determine  the  whole  course  of  the  dreamer's  life.  From 
that  time,  Le  Borgne,  which  was  the  only  name  by  which 
we  knew  him,  abandoned  all  thoughts  of  war,  and  devoted 
himself  to  the  labors  of  peace.  He  told  his  vision  to  the 
people.  They  honored  his  commission  and  respected  him 
in  his  novel  capacity. 

A  far  different  man  was  his  brother,  Mahto-Tatonka, 
who  had  left  his  name,  his  features,  and  many  of  his  qual- 
ities, to  his  son.  He  was  the  father  of  Henry  Chatillon's 
squaw,  a  circumstance  which  proved  of  some  advantage 
to  us,  as  it  secured  the  friendship  of  a  family  perhaps  the 
most  noted  and  influential  in  the  whole  Ogillallah  band. 


SCENES   AT    THE    CAMP.  147 

Mahto-Tatonka,  in  his  way,  was  a  hero.  No  chief  could 
vie  with  him  in  warlike  renown,  or  in  power  over  his 
people.  He  had  a  fearless  spirit,  and  an  impetuous  and  in- 
flexible resolution.  His  will  was  law.  He  was  politic  and 
sagacious,  and  with  true  Indian  craft,  always  befriended 
the  whites,  knowing  that  he  might  thus  reap  great  ad- 
vantages for  himself  and  his  adherents.  When  he  had 
resolved  on  any  course  of  conduct,  he  would  pay  to  the  war- 
riors the  compliment  of  calling  them  together  to  deliberate 
upon  it,  and  when  their  debates  were  over,  quietly  state  his 
own  opinion,  which  110  one  ever  disputed.  It  fared  hard 
with  those  who  incurred  his  displeasure.  He  would  strike 
them  or  stab  them  on  the  spot ;  and  this  act,  which  if  at- 
tempted by  any  other  chief  would  have  cost  him  his  life, 
the  awe  inspired  by  his  name  enabled  him  to  repeat  again 
and  again  with  impunity.  In  a  community  where,  from 
immemorial  time,  no  man  has  acknowledged  any  law  but 
his  own  will,  Mahto-Tatonka  raised  himself  to  power 
little  short  of  despotic.  His  career  came  at  last  to  an 
end.  He  had  a  host  of  enemies  patiently  biding  their 
time ;  and  our  old  friend  Smoke  in  particular,  together 
with  all  his  kinsmen,  hated  him  cordially.  Smoke  sat 
one  day  in  his  lodge,  in  the  midst  of  his  own  village,  when 
Mahto-Tatonka  entered  it  alone,  and  approaching  the 
dwelling  of  his  enemy,  challenged  him  in  a  loud  voice  to 
come  out,  and  fight.  Smoke  would  not  move.  At  this, 
Mahto-Tatonka  proclaimed  him  a  coward  and  an  old 
woman,  and,  striding  to  the  entrance  of  the  lodge,  stabbed 
the  chief's  best  horse,  which  was  picketed  there.  Smoke 
was  daunted,  and  even  this  insult  failed  to  bring  him  out. 
Mahto-Tatonka  moved  haughtily  away  ;  all  made  way  for 
him  ;  but  his  hour  of  reckoning  was  near. 

One  hot  day,  five  or  six  years  ago,  numerous  lodges  of 
Smoke's  kinsmen  were  gathered  about  some  of  the  Fur 


148  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

Company's  men,  who  were  trading  in  various  articles  with 
them,  whiskey  among  the  rest.  Mahto-Tatonka  was  also 
there  with  a  few  of  his  people.  As  he  lay  in  his  own 
lodge,  a  fray  arose  between  his  adherents  and  the  kins- 
men of  his  enemy.  The  war-whoop  was  raised,  bullets 
and  arrows  began  to  fly,  and  the  camp  was  in  confusion. 
The  chief  sprang  up,  and  rushing  in  a  fury  from  the  lodge 
shouted  to  the  combatants  on  both  sides  to  cease.  In- 
stantly —  for  the  attack  was  preconcerted  —  came  the  re- 
ports of  two  or  three  guns,  and  the  twanging  of  a  dozen 
bows,  and  the  savage  hero,  mortally  wounded,  pitched 
forward  headlong  to  the  ground.  Rouleau  was  present, 
and  told  me  the  particulars.  The  tumult  became  general, 
and  was  not  quelled  until  several  had  fallen  on  both  sides. 
When  we  were  in  the  country  the  feud  between  the  two 
families  was  still  rankling. 

Thus  died  Mahto-Tatonka ;  but  he  left  behind  him  a 
goodly  army  of  descendants,  to  perpetuate  his  renown  and 
avenge  his  fate.  Besides  daughters,  he  had  thirty  sons, 
a  number  which  need  not  stagger  the  credulity  of  those 
acquainted  with  Indian  usages  and  practices.  We  saw 
many  of  them,  all  marked  by  the  same  dark  complexion, 
and  the  same  peculiar  cast  of  features.  Of  these,  our 
visitor,  young  Mahto-Tatonka,  was  the  eldest,  and  some 
reported  him  as  likely  to  succeed  to  his  father's  honors. 
Though  he  appeared  not  more  than  twenty-one  years  old, 
he  had  of  tener  struck  the  enemy,  and  stolen  more  horses 
and  more  squaws,  than  any  young  man  in  the  village. 
Horse-stealing  is  well  known  as  an  avenue  to  distinction 
on  the  prairies,  and  the  other  kind  of  depredation  is  es- 
teemed equally  meritorious.  Not  that  the  act  can  confer 
fame  from  its  own  intrinsic  merits.  Any  one  can  steal  a 
squaw,  and  if  he  chooses  afterwards  to  make  an  adequate 
present  to  her  rightful  proprietor,  the  easy  husband  for 


SCENES   AT    THE    CAMP.  »  149 

the  most  part  rests  content,  his  vengeance  falls  asleep, 
and  all  danger  from  that  quarter  is  averted.  Yet  this  is 
regarded  as  a  pitiful  and  mean-spirited  transaction.  The 
danger  is  averted,  but  the  glory  of  the  achievement  also 
is  lost.  Mahto-Tatonka  proceeded  after  a  more  dashing 
fashion.  Out  of  several  dozen  squaws  whom  he  had  stolen, 
he  could  boast  that  he  had  never  paid  for  one,  but  snap- 
ping his  fingers  in  the  face  of  the  injured  husband,  had 
defied  the  extremity  of  his  indignation,  and  no  one  yet 
had  dared  to  lay  the  finger  of  violence  upon  him.  He  was 
following  close  in  the  footsteps  of  his  father.  The  young 
men  and  the  young  squaws,  each  in  their  way,  admired 
him.  The  former  would  always  follow  him  to  war,  and 
he  was  esteemed  to  have  an  unrivalled  charm  in  the  eyes 
of  the  latter.  Perhaps  his  impunity  may  excite  some 
wonder.  An  arrow  shot  from  a  ravine,  or  a  stab  given 
in  the  dark,  require  no  great  valor,  and  are  especially 
suited  to  the  Indian  genius ;  but  Mahto-Tatonka  had  a 
strong  protection.  It  was  not  alone  his  courage  and 
audacious  will  that  enabled  him  to  career  so  dashingly 
among  his  compeers.  His  enemies  did  not  forget  that 
he  was  one  of  thirty  warlike  brethren,  all  growing  up  to 
manhood.  Should  they  wreak  their  anger  upon  him, 
many  keen  eyes  would  be  ever  upon  them,  and  many 
fierce  hearts  thirst  for  their  blood.  The  avenger  would 
dog  their  footsteps  everywhere.  To  kill  Mahto-Tatonka 
would  be  an  act  of  suicide. 

Though  he  found  such  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  fair,  he 
was  no  dandy.  He  was  indifferent  to  the  gaudy  trappings 
and  ornaments  of  his  companions,  and  was  content  to  rest 
his  chances  of  success  upon  his  own  warlike  merits.  He 
never  arrayed  himself  in  gaudy  blanket  and  glittering 
necklaces,  but  left  his  statue-like  form,  limbed  like  an 
Apollo  of  bronze,  to  win  its  way  to  favor.  His  voice  was 


150  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

singularly  deep  and  strong,  and  sounded  from  his  chest 
like  the  deep  notes  of  an  organ.  Yet  after  all,  he  was 
but  an  Indian.  See  him  as  he  lies  there  in  the  sun  before 
our  tent,  kicking  his  heels  in  the  air  and  cracking  jokes 
with  his  brother.  Does  he  look  like  a  hero  ?  See  him 
now  in  the  hour  of  his  glory,  when  at  sunset  the  whole 
village  empties  itself  to  behold  him,  for  to-morrow  their 
favorite  young  partisan  goes  out  against  the  enemy.  His 
head-dress  is  adorned  with  a  crest  of  the  war-eagle's 
feathers,  rising  in  a  waving  ridge  above  his  brow,  and 
sweeping  far  behind  him.  His  round  white  shield  hangs 
at  his  breast,  with  feathers  radiating  from  the  centre  like 
a  star.  His  quiver  is  at  his  back ;  his  tall  lance  in  his 
hand,  the  iron  point  flashing  against  the  declining  sun, 
while  the  long  scalp-locks  of  his  enemies  flutter  from  the 
shaft.  Thus,  gorgeous  as  a  champion  in  panoply,  he  rides 
round  and  round  within  the  great  circle  of  lodges,  balanc- 
ing with  a  graceful  buoyancy  to  the  free  movements  of  his 
war-horse,  while  with  a  sedate  brow  he  sings  his  song  to 
the  Great  Spirit.  Young  rival  warriors  look  askance  at 
him;  vermilion- cheeked  girls  gaze  in  admiration ;  boys 
whoop  and  scream  in  a  thrill  of  delight,  and  old  women 
yell  forth  his  name  and  proclaim  his  praises  from  lodge 
to  lodge. 

Mahto-Tatonka  was  the  best  of  all  our  Indian  friends. 
Hour  after  hour,  and  day  after  day,  when  swarms  of  sav- 
ages of  every  age,  sex,  and  degree  beset  our  camp,  he 
would  lie  in  our  tent,  his  lynx-eye  ever  open  to  guard 
our  property  from  pillage. 

The  Whirlwind  invited  us  one  day  to  his  lodge.  The 
feast  was  finished  and  the  pipe  began  to  circulate.  It 
was  a  remarkably  large  and  fine  one,  and  I  expressed 
admiration  of  it. 

"If  the  Meneaska  likes  the  pipe,"  asked  The  Whirl- 
wind, "  why  does  he  not  keep  it  ?  " 


SCENES    AT   THE    CAMP.  151 

Such  a  pipe  among  the  Ogillallah  is  valued  at  the  price 
of  a  horse.  The  gift  seemed  worthy  of  a  chieftain  and  a 
warrior ;  but  The  Whirlwind's  generosity  rose  to  no  such 
pitch.  He  gave  me  the  pipe,  confidently  expecting  that 
I  in  return  would  make  him  a  present  of  equal  or  supe- 
rior value.  This  is  the  implied  condition  of  every  gift 
among  the  Indians,  and  should  it  not  be  complied  with, 
the  present  is  usually  reclaimed.  So  I  arranged  upon  a 
gaudy  calico  handkerchief,  an  assortment  of  vermilion, 
tobacco,  knives,  and  gunpowder,  and  summoning  the 
chief  to  camp,  assured  him  of  my  friendship,  and  begged 
his  acceptance  of  a  slight  token  of  it.  Ejaculating 
How  !  how  !  he  folded  up  the  offerings  and  withdrew  to 
his  lodge. 

Late  one  afternoon  a  party  of  Indians  on  horseback 
came  suddenly  in  sight  from  behind  some  clumps  of 
bushes  that  lined  the  bank  of  the  stream,  leading  with 
them  a  mule,  on  whose  back  was  a  wretched  negro,  sus- 
tained in  his  seat  by  the  high  pommel  and  cantle  of  the 
Indian  saddle.  His  cheeks  were  shrunken  in  the  hollow 
of  his  jaws ;  his  eyes  were  unnaturally  dilated,  and  his 
lips  shrivelled  and  drawn  back  from  his  teeth  like  those 
of  a  corpse.  When  they  brought  him  before  our  tent, 
and  lifted  him  from  the  saddle,  he  could  not  walk  or 
stand,  but  crawled  a  short  distance,  and  with  a  look  of 
utter  misery  sat  down  on  the  grass.  All  the  children 
and  women  came  pouring  out  of  the  lodges,  and  with 
screams  and  cries  made  a  circle  about  him,  while  he  sat 
supporting  himself  with  his  hands,  and  looking  from  side 
to  side  with  a  vacant  stare.  The  wretch  was  starving  to 
death.  For  thirty-three  days  he  had  wandered  alone  on 
the  prairie,  without  weapon  of  any  kind ;  without  shoes, 
moccasins,  or  any  other  clothing  than  an  old  jacket  and 
trousers ;  without  intelligence  to  guide  his  course,  or  any 


152  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

knowledge  of  the  productions  of  the  prairie.  All  this 
time  he  had  subsisted  on  crickets  and  lizards,  wild 
onions,  and  three  eggs  which  he  found  in  the  nest  of  a 
prairie-dove.  He  had  not  seen  a  human  being.  Be- 
wildered in  the  boundless,  hopeless  desert  that  stretched 
around  him,  he  had  walked  on  in  despair,  till  he  could 
walk  no  longer,  and  then  crawled  on  his  knees,  till  the 
bone  was  laid  bare.  He  chose  the  night  for  travelling, 
lying  down  by  day  to  sleep  in  the  glaring  sun,  always 
dreaming,  as  he  said,  of  the  broth  and  corn-cake  he  used 
to  eat  under  his  old  master's  shed  in  Missouri.  Every 
man  in  the  camp,  both  white  and  red,  was  astonished  at 
his  escape  not  only  from  starvation  but  from  the  grizzly 
bears,  which  abound  in  that  neighborhood,  and  the  wolves 
which  howled  around  him  every  night. 

Reynal  recognized  him  the  moment  the  Indians  brought 
him  in.  He  had  run  away  from  his  master  about  a  year 
before  and  joined  the  party  of  Richard,  who  was  then 
leaving  the  frontier  for  the  mountains.  He  had  lived 
with  Richard  until,  at  the  end  of  May,  he  with  Reynal 
and  several  other  men  went  out  in  search  of  some  stray 
horses,  when  he  was  separated  from  the  rest  in  a  storm, 
and  had  never  been  heard  of  to  this  time.  Knowing  his 
inexperience  and  helplessness,  no  one  dreamed  that  he 
could  still  be  living.  The  Indians  had  found  him  lying 
exhausted  on  the  ground. 

As  he  sat  there,  with  the  Indians  gazing  silently  on 
him,  his  haggard  face  and  glazed  eye  were  disgusting  to 
look  upon.  Deslauriers  made  him  a  bowl  of  gruel,  but 
he  suffered  it  to  remain  untasted  before  him.  At  length 
he  languidly  raised  the  spoon  to  his  lips ;  again  he  did 
so,  and  again ;  and  then  his  appetite  seemed  suddenly 
inflamed  into  madness,  for  he  seized  the  bowl,  swallowed 
all  its  contents  in  a  few  seconds,  and  eagerly  demanded 


SCENES    AT    THE    CAMP.  153 

meat.  This  we  refused,  telling  him  to  wait  until  morn- 
ing ;  but  he  begged  so  eagerly  that  we  gave  him  a  small 
piece,  which  he  devoured,  tearing  it  like  a  dog.  He  said 
he  must  have  more.  We  told  him  that  his  life  was  in 
danger  if  he  ate  so  immoderately  at  first.  He  assented, 
and  said  he  knew  he  -was  a  fool  to  do  so,  but  he  must 
have  meat.  This  we  absolutely  refused,  to  the  great 
indignation  of  the  senseless  squaws,  who,  when  we  were 
not  watching  him,  would  slyly  bring  dried  meat  and 
pommes  blanches,  and  place  them  on  the  ground  by  his 
side.  Still  this  was  not  enough  for  him.  When  it  grew 
dark  he  contrived  to  creep  away  between  the  legs  of  the 
horses  and  crawl  over  to  the  Indian  camp.  Here  he  fed 
to  his  heart's  content,  and  was  brought  back  again  in  the 
morning,  when  Gingras,  the  trapper,  put  him  on  horse- 
back and  carried  him  to  the  fort.  He  managed  to 
survive  the  effects  of  his  greediness.  Though  slightly 
deranged  when  we  left  this  part  of  the  country,  he  was 
otherwise  in  tolerable  health,  and  expressed  his  firm  con- 
viction that  nothing  could  ever  kill  him. 

When  the  sun  was  yet  an  hour  high,  it  was  a  gay 
scene  in  the  village.  The  warriors  stalked  sedately 
among  the  lodges,  or  along  the  margin  of  the  stream,  or 
walked  out  to  visit  the  bands  of  horses  that  were  feeding 
over  the  prairie.  Half  the  population  deserted  the  close 
and  heated  lodges  and  betook  themselves  to  the  water ; 
and  here  you  might  see  boys  and  girls,  and  young  squaws, 
splashing,  swimming,  and  diving,  beneath  the  afternoon 
sun,  with  merry  screams  and  laughter.  But  when  the 
sun  was  resting  above  the  broken  peaks,  and  the  purple 
mountains  threw  their  shadows  for  miles  over  the  prairie  ; 
when  our  old  tree  basked  peacefully  in  the  horizontal 
rays,  and  the  swelling  plains  and  scattered  groves  were 
softened  into  a  tranquil  beauty,  — then  the  scene  around 


154  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

our  tent  was  worthy  of  a  Salvator.  Savage  figures,  with 
quivers  at  their  backs,  and  guns,  lances,  or  tomahawks 
in  their  hands,  sat  on  horseback,  motionless  as  statues, 
their  arms  crossed  on  their  breasts  and  their  eyes  fixed 
in  a  steady  unwavering  gaze  upon  us.  Others  stood 
erect,  wrapped  from  head  to  foot  in  their  long  white 
robes  of  buffalo-hide.  Others  sat  together  on  the  grass, 
holding  their  shaggy  horses  by  a  rope,  with  their  dark 
busts  exposed  to  view  as  they  suffered  their  robes  to  fall 
from  their  shoulders.  Others  again  stood  carelessly  among 
the  throng,  with  nothing  to  conceal  the  matchless  symme- 
try of  their  forms.  There  was  one  in  particular,  a  fero- 
cious fellow,  named  The  Mad  Wolf,  who,  with  the  bow  in 
his  hand  and  the  quiver  at  his  back,  might  have  seemed, 
but  for  his  face,  the  Pythian  Apollo  himself.  Such  a 
figure  rose  before  the  imagination  of  West,  when  on  first 
seeing  the  Belvedere  in  the  Vatican,  he  exclaimed,  "  By 
God,  a  Mohawk  !  " 

When  the  prairie  grew  dark,  the  horses  were  driven  in 
and  secured  near  the  camp,  and  the  crowd  began  to  melt 
away.  Fires  gleamed  around,  duskily  revealing  the  rough 
trappers  and  the  graceful  Indians.  One  of  the  families 
near  us  was  always  gathered  about  a  bright  fire  that 
lighted  up  the  interior  of  their  lodge.  Withered,  witch- 
like  hags  flitted  around  the  blaze  ;  and  here  for  hour  after 
hour  sat  a  circle  of  children  and  young  girls,  laughing 
and  talking,  their  round  merry  faces  glowing  in  the  ruddy 
light.  We  could  hear  the  monotonous  notes  of  the  drum 
from  the  Indian  camp,  with  the  chant  of  the  war-song, 
deadened  in  the  distance,  and  the  long  chorus  of  quaver- 
ing yells,  where  the  war-dance  was  going  on  in  the 
largest  lodge.  For  several  nights,  too,  we  heard  wild  and 
mournful  cries,  rising  and  dying  away  like  the  melan- 
choly voice  of  a  wolf.  They  came  from  the  sisters  and 


SCENES   AT    THE    CAMP.  155 

female  relatives  of  Mahto-Tatonka,  who  were  gashing 
their  limbs  with  knives,  and  bewailing  the  death  of 
Henry  Chatillon's  squaw.  The  hour  would  grow  late 
before  all  went  to  rest  in  our  camp.  Then,  while  the 
embers  of  the  fires  glowed  dimly,  the  mei\  lay  stretched 
in  their  blankets  on  the  ground,  and  nothing  could  be 
heard  but  the  restless  motions  of  the  crowded  horses. 

I  recall  these  scenes  with  a  mixed  feeling  of  pleasure 
and  pain.  At  this  time,  I  was  so  reduced  by  illness  that 
I  could  seldom  walk  without  reeling  like  a  drunken  man, 
and  when  I  rose  from  my  seat  upon  the  ground  the  land- 
scape suddenly  grew  dim  before  my  eyes,  the  trees  and 
lodges  seemed  to  sway  to  and  fro,  and  the  prairie  to  rise 
and  fall  like  the  swells  of  the  ocean.  Such  a  state  of 
things  is  not  enviable  anywhere.  In  a  country  where  a 
man's  life  may  at  any  moment  depend  on  the  strength  of 
his  arm,  or  it  may  be  on  the  activity  of  his  legs,  it  is 
more  particularly  inconvenient.  Nor  is  sleeping  on  damp 
ground,  with  an  occasional  drenching  from  a  shower,  very 
beneficial  in  such  cases.  I  sometimes  suffered  the  ex- 
tremity of  exhaustion,  and  was  in  a  tolerably  fair  way 
of  atoning  for  my  love  of  the  prairie,  by  resting  there 
for  ever. 

I  tried  repose  and  a  very  sparing  diet.  For  a  long 
time,  with  exemplary  patience,  I  lounged  about  the  camp, 
or  at  the  utmost  staggered  over  to  the  Indian  village,  and 
walked  faint  and  dizzy  among  the  lodges.  It  would  not 
do  ;  and  I  bethought  me  of  starvation.  During  five  days 
I  sustained  life  on  one  small  biscuit  a  day.  At  the  end 
of  that  time  I  was  weaker  than  before,  but  the  disorder 
seemed  shaken  in  its  stronghold,  and  very  gradually  I 
began  to  resume  a  less  rigid  diet. 

I  used  to  lie  languid  and  dreamy  before  our  tent,  mus- 
ing on  the  past  and  the  future,  and  when  most  overcome 


106  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

with  lassitude,  my  eyes  turned  always  towards  the  distant 
Black  Hills.  There  is  a  spirit  of  energy  in  mountains, 
and  they  impart  it  to  all  who  approach  them.  At  that 
time  I  did  not  know  how  many  dark  superstitions  and 
gloomy  legends  are  associated  with  the  Black  Hills  in  the 
minds  of  the  Indians,  but  I  felt  an  eager  desire  to  pene- 
trate their  hidden  recesses,  and  explore  the  chasms 
and  precipices,  black  torrents  and  silent  forests  that  1 
fancied  were  concealed  there. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ILL-LUCK. 

A  CAN  ADI  AN  came  from  Fort  Laramie,  and  brought 
a  curious  piece  of  intelligence.  A  trapper,  fresh 
from  the  mountains,  had  become  enamoured  of  a  Missouri 
damsel  belonging  to  a  family  who  with  other  emigrants 
had  been  for  some  days  encamped  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  fort.  If  bravery  be  the  most  potent  charm  to  win  the 
favor  of  the  fair,  then  no  wooer  could  be  more  irresistible 
than  a  Rocky  Mountain  trapper.  In  the  present  instance, 
the  suit  was  not  urged  in  vain.  The  lovers  concerted  a 
scheme,  which  they  proceeded  to  carry  into  effect  with  all 
possible  despatch.  The  emigrant  party  left  the  fort,  and 
on  the  next  night  but  one  encamped  as  usual,  and  placed 
a  guard.  A  little  after  midnight,  the  enamoured  trapper 
drew  near,  mounted  on  a  strong  horse,  and  leading  an- 
other by  the  bridle.  Fastening  both  animals  to  a  tree,  he 
stealthily  moved  towards  the  wagons,  as  if  he  were  ap- 
proaching a  band  of  buffalo.  Eluding  the  vigilance  of  the 
guard,  who  were  probably  half  asleep,  he  met  his  mistress 
by  appointment  at  the  outskirts  of  the  camp,  mounted 
her  on  his  spare  horse,  and  made  off  with  her  through 
the  darkness.  The  sequel  of  the  adventure  did  not  reach 
our  ears,  and  we  never  learned  how  the  imprudent  fair 
one  liked  an  Indian  lodge  for  a  dwelling,  and  a  reckless 
trapper  for  a  bridegroom. 

At  length  The  Whirlwind  and  his  warriors  determined 


158  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

to  move.  They  had  resolved  after  all  their  preparations 
not  to  go  to  the  rendezvous  at  La  Bonte*'s  camp,  but  to 
pass  through  the  Black  Hills  and  spend  a  few  weeks  in 
hunting  the  buffalo  on  the  other  side,  until  they  had  killed 
enough  to  furnish  them  with  a  stock  of  provisions  and 
with  hides  to  make  their  lodges  for  the  next  season. 
This  done,  they  were  to  send  out  a  small  independent 
war-party  against  the  enemy.  Their  final  determination 
placed  us  in  some  embarrassment.  Should  we  go  to  La 
Bonte°s  camp,  it  was  not  impossible  that  the  other  villages 
would  prove  as  vacillating  as  The  Whirlwind's,  and  that  no 
assembly  whatever  would  take  place.  Our  old  companion 
Reynal  had  conceived  a  liking  for  us,  or  rather  for  our  bis- 
cuit and  coffee,  and  for  the  occasional  small  presents  which 
we  made  him.  He  was  very  anxious  that  we  should  go 
with  the  village  which  he  himself  intended  to  follow. 
He  was  certain  that  no  Indians  would  meet  at  the  rendez- 
vous, and  said,  moreover,  that  it  would  be  easy  to  convey 
our  cart  and  baggage  through  the  Black  Hills.  He  knew, 
however,  nothing  of  the  matter.  Neither  he  nor  any  white 
man  with  us  had  ever  seen  the  difficult  and  obscure  defiles 
through  which  the  Indians  intended  to  make  their  way.  I 
passed  them  afterwards,  and  had  much  ado  to  force  my  dis- 
tressed horse  along  the  narrow  ravines,  and  through  chasms 
where  daylight  could  scarcely  penetrate.  Our  cart  might 
as  easily  have  been  driven  over  the  summit  of  Pike's 
Peak.  But  of  this  we  were  ignorant ;  and  in  view  of  the 
difficulties  and  uncertainties  of  an  attempt  to  visit  the 
rendezvous,  we  recalled  the  old  proverb,  about  "  A  bird 
in  the  hand,"  and  decided  to  follow  the  village. 

Both  camps,  the  Indians'  and  our  own,  broke  up  on  the 
morning  of  the  first  of  July.  I  was  so  weak  that  the  aid 
of  a  spoonful  of  whiskey,  swallowed  at  short  intervals, 
alone  enabled  me  to  sit  my  horse  through  the  short  jour< 


THE  TRAPPER. 


ILL-LUCK.  159 

ney  of  that  day.  For  half  a  mile  before  us  and  half  a 
mile  behind,  the  prairie  was  covered  far  and  wide  with 
the  moving  throng  of  savages.  The  barren,  broken  plain 
stretched  away  to  the  right  and  left,  and  far  in  front  rose 
the  precipitous  ridge  of  the  Black  Hills.  We  pushed 
forward  to  the  head  of  the  scattered  column,  passing 
burdened  traineaux,  heavily  laden  pack-horses,  gaunt  old 
women  on  foot,  gay  young  squaws  on  horseback,  restless 
children  running  among  the  crowd,  old  men  striding  along 
in  their  white  buffalo-robes,  and  groups  of  young  warriors 
mounted  on  their  best  horses.  Henry  Chatillon,  looking 
backward  over  the  distant  prairie,  exclaimed  suddenly 
that  a  horseman  was  approaching,  and  in  truth  we  could 
just  discern  a  small  black  speck  slowly  moving  over  the 
face  of  a  distant  swell,  like  a  fly  creeping  on  a  wall.  It 
rapidly  grew  larger  as  it  approached. 

"  White  man,  I  b'lieve,"  said  Henry  ;  "  look  how  he 
ride.  Indian  never  ride  that  way.  Yes  ;  he  got  rifle  on 
the  saddle  before  him." 

The  horseman  disappeared  in  a  hollow  of  the  prairie, 
but  we  soon  saw  him  again,  and  as  he  came  riding  at  a 
gallop  towards  us  through  the  crowd  of  Indians,  his  long 
hair  streaming  in  the  wind  behind  him,  we  recognized  the 
ruddy  face  and  old  buckskin  frock  of  Gingras  the  trapper. 
He  was  just  arrived  from  Fort  Laramie,  and  said  he  had 
a  message  for  us.  A  trader  named  Bisonette,  one  of 
Henry's  friends,  had  lately  come  from  the  settlements, 
and  intended  to  go  with  a  party  of  men  to  La  Bonte^s 
camp,  where,  as  Gingras  assured  us,  ten  or  twelve  vil- 
lages of  Indians  would  certainly  assemble.  Bisonette 
desired  that  we  would  cross  over  and  meet  him  there, 
and  promised  that  his  men  should  protect  our  horses  and 
baggage  while  we  went  among  the  Indians.  Shaw  and  I 
stopped  our  horses,  held  a  council,  and  in  an  evil  hour 
resolved  to  go. 


160  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

For  the  rest  of  that  day  our  course  and  that  of  the 
Indians  was  the  same.  In  less  than  an  hour  we  came  to 
where  the  high  barren  prairie  terminated,  sinking  down 
abruptly  in  steep  descent ;  and  standing  on  the  verge  we 
saw  below  us  a  great  meadow.  Laramie  Creek  bounded  it 
on  the  left,  sweeping  along  in  the  shadow  of  the  heights, 
and  passing  with  its  shallow  and  rapid  current  just  beneath 
us.  We  sat  on  horseback,  waiting  and  looking  on,  while 
the  whole  savage  array  went  pouring  by,  hurrying  down 
the  declivity  and  spreading  over  the  meadow  below.  In 
a  few  moments  the  plain  was  swarming  with  the  moving 
multitude,  some  just  visible,  like  specks  in  the  distance, 
others  still  hastening  by  and  fording  the  stream  in  bustle 
and  confusion.  On  the  edge  of  the  heights  sat  a  group 
of  the  elder  warriors,  gravely  smoking  and  looking  with 
unmoved  faces  on  the  wild  and  striking  spectacle. 

Up  went  the  lodges  in  a  circle  on  the  margin  of  the 
stream.  For  the  sake  of  quiet  we  pitched  our  tent  among 
some  trees  half  a  mile  distant.  In  the  afternoon  we  were 
in  the  village.  The  day  was  a  glorious  one,  and  the  whole 
camp  seemed  lively  and  animated  in  sympathy.  Groups 
of  children  and  young  girls  were  laughing  gayly  outside 
the  lodges.  The  shields,  the  lances,  and  the  bows  were 
removed  from  the  tall  tripods  on  which  they  usually  hung, 
before  the  dwelling  of  their  owners.  The  warriors  were 
mounting  their  horses,  and  one  by  one  riding  away  over 
the  prairie  toward  the  neighboring  hills. 

Shaw  and  I  sat  on  the  grass  near  the  lodge  of  Reynal. 
An  old  woman,  with  true  Indian  hospitality,  brought  a 
bowl  of  boiled  venison  and  placed  it  before  us.  We 
amused  ourselves  with  watching  a  few  young  squaws  who 
were  playing  together  and  chasing  each  other  in  and  out 
of  one  of  the  lodges.  Suddenly  the  wild  yell  of  the  war- 
whoop  came  pealing  from  the  hills.  A  crowd  of  horse- 


ILL-LUCK.  161 

men  appeared,  rushing  down  their  sides,  and  riding  at  full 
speed  towards  the  village,  each  warrior's  long  hair  flying 
behind  him  in  the  wind  like  a  ship's  streamer.  As  they 
approached,  the  confused  throng  assumed  a  regular  order, 
and  entering  two  by  two,  they  circled  round  the  area  at 
full  gallop,  each  warrior  singing  his  war-song  as  he  rode. 
Some  of  their  dresses  were  superb.  They  wore  crests 
of  feathers,  and  close  tunics  of  antelope  skins,  fringed 
with  the  scalp-locks  of  their  enemies ;  many  of  their 
shields,  too,  fluttered  with  the  war-eagle's  feathers.  All 
had  bows  and  arrows  at  their  backs ;  some  carried  long 
lances,  and  a  few  were  armed  with  guns.  The  White 
Shield,  their  partisan,  rode  in  gorgeous  attire  at  their 
head,  mounted  on  a  black-and-white  horse.  Mahto- 
Tatonka  and  his  brothers  took  no  part  in  this  parade, 
for  they  were  in  mourning  for  their  sister,  and  were  all 
sitting  in  their  lodges,  their  bodies  bedaubed  from  head 
to  foot  with  white  clay,  and  a  lock  of  hair  cut  from  the 
forehead  of  each. 

The  warriors  rode  three  times  round  the  village ;  and 
as  each  noted  champion  passed,  the  old  women  would 
scream  out  his  name,  to  honor  his  bravery,  and  excite  the 
emulation  of  the  younger  warriors.  Little  urchins,  not 
two  years  old,  followed  the  warlike  pageant  with  glitter- 
ing eyes,  and  gazed  with  eager  admiration  at  the  heroes 
of  their  tribe. 

The  procession  rode  out  of  the  village  as  it  had  entered 
it,  and  in  half  an  hour  all  the  warriors  had  returned 
again,  dropping  quietly  in,  singly  or  in  parties  of  two  or 
three. 

The  parade  over,  we  were  entertained  with  an  episode 
of  Indian  domestic  life.  A  vicious-looking  squaw,  beside 
herself  with  rage,  was  berating  her  spouse,  who,  with  a 
look  of  total  unconcern,  sat  cross-legged  in  the  middle  of 

u 


162  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

his  lodge,  smoking  his  pipe  in  silence.  At  length,  mad- 
dened by  his  coolness,  she  made  a  rush  at  the  lodge,  seized 
the  poles  which  supported  it,  and  tugged  at  them,  one 
after  the  other,  till  she  brought  down  the  whole  structure, 
poles,  hides,  and  all,  clattering  on  his  head,  burying  him 
in  the  wreck  of  his  habitation.  He  pushed  aside  the 
hides  with  his  hand,  and  presently  his  head  emerged,  like 
a  turtle's  from  its  shell.  Still  he  sat  smoking  sedately  as 
before,  a  wicked  glitter  in  his  eyes  alone  betraying  the 
pent-up  storm  within.  The  squaw,  scolding  all  the  while, 
proceeded  to  saddle  her  horse,  bestride  him,  and  canter 
out  of  the  camp,  intending,  as  it  seemed,  to  return  to  her 
father's  lodge,  wherever  that  might  be.  The  warrior,  who 
had  not  deigned  even  to  look  at  her,  now  coolly  arose, 
disengaged  himself  from  the  ruins,  tied  a  cord  of  hair  by 
way  of  bridle  round  the  jaw  of  his  buffalo-horse,  broke  a 
stout  cudgel,  about  four  feet  long,  from  the  but-end  of  a 
lodge-pole,  mounted,  and  galloped  majestically  over  the 
prairie  to  discipline  his  offending  helpmeet. 

As  the  sun  rose  next  morning  we  looked  across  the 
meadow,  and  could  see  the  lodges  levelled  and  the  Indians 
gathering  together  in  preparation  to  leave  the  camp. 
Their  course  lay  to  the  westward.  We  turned  towards 
the  north  with  our  three  men,  the  four  trappers  following 
us,  with  the  Indian  family  of  Morin.  We  travelled  until 
night,  and  encamped  among  some  trees  by  the  side  of  a 
little  brook,  where  during  the  whole  of  the  next  day  we 
lay  waiting  for  Bisonette ;  but  no  Bisonette  appeared. 
Here  two  of  our  trapper  friends  left  us,  and  set  out  for 
the  Rocky  Mountains.  On  the  second  morning,  despair- 
ing of  Bisonette's  arrival,  we  resumed  our  journey, 
traversing  a  forlorn  and  dreary  monotony  of  sun-scorched 
plains,  where  no  living  thing  appeared  save  here  and 
there  an  antelope  flying  before  us  like  the  wind.  When 


ILL-LUCK.  163 

noon  came  we  saw  an  unwonted  and  welcome  sight ;  a 
fine  growth  of  trees,  marking  the  course  of  a  little 
stream  called  Horseshoe  Creek.  They  stood  wide  asun- 
der, spreading  a  thick  canopy  of  leaves  above  a  surface 
of  rich,  tall  grass.  The  stream  ran  swiftly,  as  clear  as 
crystal,  through  the  bosom  of  the  wood,  sparkling  over 
its  bed  of  white  sand,  and  darkening  again  as  it  entered 
a  deep  cavern  of  foliage.  I  was  thoroughly  exhausted, 
and  flung  myself  on  the  ground,  scarcely  able  to  move. 

In  the  morning,  as  glorious  a  sun  rose  upon  us  as  ever 
animated  .that  wilderness.  We  advanced,  and  soon  were 
surrounded  by  tall  bare  hills,  overspread  from  top  to  bot- 
tom with  prickly-pears  and  other  cacti,  that  seemed  like 
clinging  reptiles.  A  plain,  flat  and  hard,  with  scarcely 
the  vestige  of  grass,  lay  before  us,  and  a  line  of  tall  mis- 
shapen trees  bounded  the  onward  view.  There  was  no 
sight  or  sound  of  man  or  beast,  or  any  living  thing, 
although  behind  those  trees  was  the  long-looked-for  place 
of  rendezvous,  where  we  hoped  to  have  found  the  Indians 
congregated  by  thousands.  We  looked  and  listened  anx- 
iously. We  pushed  forward  with  our  best  speed,  and 
forced  our  horses  through  the  trees.  There  were  copses 
of  some  extent  beyond,  with  a  scanty  stream  creeping 
among  them ;  and  as  we  pressed  through  the  yielding 
branches,  deer  sprang  up  to  the  right  and  left.  At  length 
we  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  prairie  beyond,  emerged  upon 
it,  and  saw,  not  a  plain  covered  with  encampments  and 
swarming  with  life,  but  a  vast  unbroken  desert  stretching 
away  before  us  league  upon  league,  without  bush  or  tree, 
or  any  thing  that  had  life.  We  drew  rein  and  gave  to  the 
winds  our  sentiments  concerning  the  whole  aboriginal 
race  of  America.  Our  journey  was  worse  than  vain. 
For  myself,  I  was  vexed  beyond  measure ;  as  I  well  knew 
that  a  slight  aggravation  of  my  disorder  would  render 


164  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

this  false  step  irrevocable,  and  make  it  impossible  to  ac- 
complish effectually  the  object  which  had  led  me  an  ardu- 
ous journey  of  between  three  and  four  thousand  miles. 

And  where  were  the  Indians  ?  They  were  mustered 
in  great  numbers  at  a  spot  about  twenty  miles  distant, 
where  at  that  very  moment  they  were  dancing  their  war 
dances.  The  scarcity  of  buffalo  in  the  vicinity  of  La 
Bonte*'s  camp,  which  would  render  their  supply  of  provi- 
sions scanty  and  precarious,  had  probably  prevented  them 
from  assembling  there ;  but  of  all  this  we  knew  nothing 
until  some  weeks  after. 

Shaw  lashed  his  horse  and  galloped  forward.  I,  though 
much  more  vexed  than  he,  was  not  strong  enough  to  adopt 
this  convenient  vent  to  my  feelings ;  so  I  followed  at  a 
quiet  pace.  We  rode  up  to  a  solitary  old  tree,  which 
seemed  the  only  place  fit  for  encampment.  Half  its 
branches  were  dead,  and  the  rest  were  so  scantily  fur- 
nished with  leaves  that  they  cast  but  a  meagre  and 
wretched  shade.  We  threw  down  our  saddles  in  the 
strip  of  shadow  cast  by  the  old  twisted  trunk,  and  sat 
down  upon  them.  In  silent  indignation  we  remained 
smoking  for  an  hour  or  more,  shifting  our  saddles  with 
the  shifting  shadow,  for  the  sun  was  intolerably  hot. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

HUNTING  INDIANS. 

AT  last  we  had  reached  La  Bonte"s  camp,  towards 
which  our  eyes  had  turned  so  long.  Of  all  weary 
hours,  those  that  passed  between  noon  and  sunset  of  that 
day  may  bear  away  the  palm  of  exquisite  discomfort.  I 
lay  under  the  tree  reflecting  on  what  course  to  pursue, 
watching  the  shadows  which  seemed  never  to  move,  and 
the  sun  which  seemed  fixed  in  the  sky,  and  hoping 
every  moment  to  see  the  men  and  horses  of  Bisonette 
emerging  from  the  woods.  Shaw  and  Henry  had  ridden 
out  on  a  scouting  expedition,  and  did  not  return  till  the 
sun  was  setting.  There  was  nothing  very  cheering  in 
their  faces  or  in  the  news  they  brought. 

"  We  have  been  ten  miles  from  here,"  said  Shaw.  "  We 
climbed  the  highest  butte  we  could  find,  and  could  not 
see  a  buffalo  or  an  Indian ;  nothing  but  prairie  for  twenty 
miles  around  us."  Henry's  horse  was  disabled  by  clam- 
bering up  and  down  the  sides  of  ravines,  and  Shaw's  was 
greatly  fatigued. 

After  supper  that  evening,  as  we  sat  around  the  fire,  I 
proposed  to  Shaw  to  wait  one  day  longer,  in  hopes  of 
Bisonette's  arrival,  and  if  he  should  not  come,  to  send 
Deslauriers  with  the  cart  and  baggage  back  to  Fort  Lara- 
mie,  while  we  ourselves  followed  The  Whirlwind's  village, 
and  attempted  to  overtake  it  as  it  passed  the  mountains. 
Shaw,  not  having  the  same  motive  for  hunting  Indians 


166  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

that  I  had,  was  averse  to  the  plan ;  I  therefore  resolved 
to  go  alone.  This  design  I  adopted  very  unwillingly,  for 
I  knew  that  in  the  present  state  of  my  health  the  attempt 
would  be  painful  and  hazardous.  I  hoped  that  Bisonette 
would  appear  in  the  course  of  the  following  day,  and 
bring  us  some  information  by  which  to  direct  our  course, 
thus  enabling  me  to  accomplish  my  purpose  by  means 
less  objectionable. 

The  rifle  of  Henry  Chatillon  was  necessary  for  the  sub- 
sistence of  the  party  in  my  absence ;  so  I  called  Raymond, 
and  ordered  him  to  prepare  to  set  out  with  me.  Ray- 
mond rolled  his  eyes  vacantly  about,  but  at  length,  having 
succeeded  in  grappling  with  the  idea,  he  withdrew  to  his 
bed  under  the  cart.  He  was  a  heavy-moulded  fellow, 
with  a  broad  face,  expressing  impenetrable  stupidity  and 
entire  self-confidence.  As  for  his  good  qualities,  he  had 
a  sort  of  stubborn  fidelity,  an  insensibility  to  danger,  and 
a  kind  of  instinct  or  sagacity,  which  sometimes  led  him 
right,  where  better  heads  than  his  were  at  a  loss.  Be- 
sides this,  he  knew  very  well  how  to  handle  a  rifle  and 
picket  a  horse. 

Through  the  following  day  the  sun  glared  down  upon 
us  with  a  pitiless,  penetrating  heat.  The  distant  blue 
prairie  seemed  quivering  under  it.  The  lodge  of  our 
Indian  associates  parched  in  the  burning  rays,  and  our 
rifles,  as  they  leaned  against  the  tree,  were  too  hot  for 
the  touch.  There  was  a  dead  silence  through  our  camp, 
broken  only  by  the  hum  of  gnats  and  mosquitoes.  The 
men,  resting  their  foreheads  on  their  arms,  were  sleeping 
under  the  cart.  The  Indians  kept  close  within  their 
lodge,  except  the  newly-married  pair,  who  were  seated 
together  under  an  awning  of  buffalo-robes,  and  the  old 
conjurer,  who,  with  his  hard,  emaciated  face  and  gaunt 
ribs,  was  perched  aloft  like  a  turkey-buzzard,  among  the 


HUNTING   INDIANS.  167 

dead  branches  of  an  old  tree,  constantly  on  the  lookout 
for  enemies.  We  dined,  and  then  Shaw  saddled  his  horse. 

"  I  will  ride  back,"  said  he,  "  to  Horseshoe  Creek, 
and  see  if  Bisonette  is  there." 

"  I  would  go  with  you,"  I  answered,  "  but  I  must 
reserve  all  the  strength  I  have." 

The  afternoon  dragged  away  at  last.  I  occupied 
myself  in  cleaning  my  rifle  and  pistols,  and  making  other 
preparations  for  the  journey.  It  was  late  before  I 
wrapped  myself  in  my  blanket,  and  lay  down  for  the 
night,  with  my  head  on  my  saddle.  Shaw  had  not 
returned,  but  this  gave  us  no  uneasiness,  for  we  supposed 
that  he  had  fallen  in  with  Bisonette,  and  was  spending 
the  night  with  him.  For  a  day  or  two  past  I  had  gained 
in  strength  and  health,  but  about  midnight  an  attack  of 
pain  awoke  me,  and  for  some  hours  I  could  not  sleep. 
The  moon  was  quivering  on  the  broad  breast  of  the 
Platte  ;  nothing  could  be  heard  except  those  low  inex- 
plicable sounds,  like  whisperings  and  footsteps,  which 
no  one  who  has  spent  the  night  alone  amid  deserts  and 
forests  will  be  at  a  loss  to  understand.  As  I  was  falling 
asleep,  a  familiar  voice,  shouting  from  the  distance, 
awoke  me  again.  A  rapid  step  approached  the  camp, 
and  Shaw  on  foot,  with  his  gun  in  his  hand,  hastily 
entered. 

"  Where's  your  horse  ?  "  said  I,  raising  myself  on  my 
elbow. 

"  Lost !  "  said  Shaw.     "  Where's  Deslauriers  ?  " 

"There,"  I  replied,  pointing  to  a  confused  mass  of 
blankets  and  buffalo-robes. 

Shaw  touched  them  with  the  butt  of  his  gun,  and  up 
sprang  our  faithful  Canadian. 

"  Come,  Deslauriers ;  stir  up  the  fire,  and  get  me 
something  to  eat." 


168  THE   OKEGON   TRAIL. 

"  Where's  Bisonette  ?  "  asked  I. 

"  The  Lord  knows ;  there's  nobody  at  Horseshoe 
Creek." 

Shaw  had  gone  back  to  the  spot  where  we  had  encamped 
two  days  before,  and  finding  nothing  there  but  the  ashes  of 
our  fires,  he  had  tied  his  horse  to  the  tree  while  he  bathed 
in  the  stream.  Something  startled  his  horse,  which 
broke  loose,  and  for  two  hours  Shaw  tried  in  vain  to 
catch  him.  Sunset  approached,  and  it  was  twelve  miles 
to  camp.  So  he  abandoned  the  attempt,  and  set  out  on 
foot  to  join  us.  The  greater  part  of  his  perilous  and 
solitary  walk  was  in  darkness.  His  moccasins  were 
worn  to  tatters  and  his  feet  severely  lacerated.  He  sat 
down  to  eat,  however,  the  usual  equanimity  of  his  tem- 
per not  at  all  disturbed  by  his  misfortune,  and  my  last 
recollection  before  falling  asleep  was  of  Shaw,  seated 
cross-legged  before  the  fire,  smoking  his  pipe. 

When  I  awoke  again  there  was  a  fresh  damp  smell  in 
the  air,  a  gray  twilight  involved  the  prairie,  and  above  its 
eastern  verge  was  a  streak  of  cold  red  sky.  I  called  to 
the  men,  and  in  a  moment  a  fire  was  blazing  brightly  in 
the  dim  morning  light,  and  breakfast  was  getting  ready. 
We  sat  down  together  on  the  grass,  to  the  last  civilized 
meal  which  Raymond  and  I  were  destined  to  enjoy  for 
some  time. 

44  Now  bring  in  the  horses." 

My  little  mare  Pauline  was  soon  standing  by  the  fire. 
She  was  a  fleet,  hardy,  and  gentle  animal,  christened 
after  Paul  Dorion,  from  whom  I  had  procured  her  in 
exchange  for  Pontiac.  She  did  not  look  as  if  equipped 
for  a  morning  pleasure-ride.  In  front  of  the  black, 
high-bowed  mountain-saddle  were  fastened  holsters,  with 
heavy  pistols.  A  pair  of  saddle-bags,  a  blanket  tightly 
rolled,  a  small  parcel  of  Indian  presents  tied  up  in  a 


HUNTING   INDIANS.  169 

buffalo  skin,  a  leather  bag  of  flour,  and  a  smaller  one  of 
tea,  were  all  secured  behind,  and  a  long  trail-rope  was 
wound  round  her  neck.  Raymond  had  a  strong  black 
mule,  equipped  in  a  similar  manner.  We  crammed  our 
powder-horns  to  the  throat,  and  mounted. 

"  I  will  meet  you  at  Fort  Laramie  on  the  first  of 
August,"  said  I  to  Shaw. 

"  That  is,"  he  replied,  "  if  we  don't  meet  before  that. 
I  think  I  shall  follow  after  you  in  a  day  or  two." 

This  in  fact  he  attempted,  and  would  have  succeeded  if 
he  had  not  encountered  obstacles  against  which  his  reso- 
lute spirit  was  of  no  avail.  Two  days  after  I  left  him  he 
sent  Deslauriers  to  the  fort  with  the  cart  and  baggage, 
and  set  out  for  the  mountains  with  Henry  Chatillon ;  but 
a  tremendous  thunder-storm  had  deluged  the  prairie,  and 
nearly  obliterated  not  only  our  trail  but  that  of  the  In- 
dians themselves.  They  encamped  at  the  base  of  the 
mountains,  at  a  loss  in  what  direction  to  go.  In  the 
morning  Shaw  found  himself  poisoned  by  the  plant  known 
as  "  poison  ivy,"  in  such  a  manner  that  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  travel.  So  they  turned  back  reluctantly  toward 
Fort  Laramie.  Shaw  lay  seriously  ill  for  a  week,  and  re- 
mained at  the  fort  till  I  rejoined  him  some  time  after. 

To  return  to  my  own  story.  Raymond  and  I  shook 
hands  with  our  friends,  rode  out  upon  the  prairie,  and, 
clambering  the  sandy  hollows  channelled  in  the  sides  of 
the  hills,  gained  the  high  plains  above.  If  a  curse  had 
been  pronounced  upon  the  land,  it  could  not  have  worn 
an  aspect  more  forlorn.  There  were  abrupt  broken  hills, 
deep  hollows,  and  wide  plains ;  but  all  alike  glared  with 
an  insupportable  whiteness  under  the  burning  sun.  The 
country,  as  if  parched  by  the  heat,  was  cracked  into  innu- 
merable fissures  and  ravines,  that  not  a  little  impeded  our 
progress.  Their  steep  sides  were  white  and  raw,  and 


170  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

along  the  bottom  we  several  times  discovered  the  broad 
tracks  of  the  grizzly  bear,  nowhere  more  abundant  than 
in  this  region.  The  ridges  of  the  hills  were  hard  as  rock, 
and  strewn  with  pebbles  of  flint  and  coarse  red  jasper ; 
looking  from  them,  there  was  nothing  to  relieve  the  desert 
uniformity,  save  here  and  there  a  pine-tree  clinging  at  the 
edge  of  a  ravine,  and  stretching  its  rough,  shaggy  arms 
into  the  scorching  air.  Its  resinous  odors  recalled  the 
pine-clad  mountains  of  New  England,  and,  goaded  as  I  was 
with  a  morbid  thirst,  I  thought  with  a  longing  desire  on 
the  crystal  treasure  poured  in  such  wasteful  profusion 
from  our  thousand  hills.  I  heard,  in  fancy,  the  plunging 
and  gurgling  of  waters  among  the  shaded  rocks,  and  saw 
them  gleaming  dark  and  still  far  down  amid  the  crevices, 
the  cold  drops  trickling  from  the  long  green  mosses. 

When  noon  came  we  found  a  little  stream,  with  a  few 
trees  and  bushes ;  and  here  we  rested  for  an  hour.  Then 
we  travelled  on,  guided  by  the  sun,  until,  just  before 
sunset,  we  reached  another  stream,  called  Bitter  Cotton- 
wood  Creek.  A  thick  growth  of  bushes  and  old  storm- 
beaten  trees  grew  at  intervals  along  its  bank.  Near  the 
foot  of  one  of  the  trees  we  flung  down  our  saddles,  and 
hobbling  our  horses,  turned  them  loose  to  feed.  The 
little  stream  was  clear  and  swift,  and  ran  musically  over 
its  white  sands.  Small  water-birds  were  splashing  in 
the  shallows,  and  filling  the  air  with  cries  and  flutter- 
ings.  The  sun  was  just  sinking  among  gold  and  crimson 
clouds  behind  Mount  Laramie.  I  lay  upon  a  log  by  the 
margin  of  the  water,  and  watched  the  restless  motions  of 
the  little  fish  in  a  deep  still  nook  below.  Strange  to  say, 
I  seemed  to  have  gained  strength  since  the  morning,  and 
almost  felt  a  sense  of  returning  health. 

We  built  our  fire.     Night  came,  and  the  wolves  began 
to  howl.     One  deep  voice  began,  answered  in  awful  re- 


HUNTING   INDIANS.  171 

sponses  from  hills,  plains,  and  woods.  Such  sounds  do 
not  disturb  one's  sleep  upon  the  prairie.  We  picketed 
the  mare  and  the  mule,  and  did  not  awake  until  daylight. 
Then  we  turned  them  loose,  still  hobbled,  to  feed  for  an 
hour  before  starting.  We  were  getting  ready  our  break- 
fast when  Raymond  saw  an  antelope  half  a  mile  distant 
and  said  he  would  go  and  shoot  it. 

"  Your  business,"  said  I,  "  is  to  look  after  the  animals. 
I  am  too  weak  to  do  much,  if  any  thing  happens  to  them, 
and  you  must  keep  within  sight  of  the  camp." 

Raymond  promised,  and  set  out  with  his  rifle  in  his 
hand.  The  mare  and  the  mule  had  crossed  the  stream, 
and  were  feeding  among  the  long  grass  on  the  other  side, 
much  tormented  by  the  attacks  of  large  green-headed  flies. 
As  I  watched  them,  I  saw  them  go  down  into  a  hollow, 
and  as  several  minutes  elapsed  without  their  reappearing, 
I  waded  through  the  stream  to  look  after  them.  To  my 
vexation  and  alarm  I  discovered  them  at  a  great  distance, 
galloping  away  at  full  speed,  Pauline  in  advance,  with 
her  hobbles  broken,  and  the  mule,  still  fettered,  following 
with  awkward  leaps.  I  fired  my  rifle  and  shouted  to  re- 
call Raymond.  In  a  moment  he  came  running  through 
the  stream,  with  a  red  handkerchief  bound  round  his  head. 
I  pointed  to  the  fugitives,  and  ordered  him  to  pursue  them. 
Muttering  a  "  Sacre*,"  between  his  teeth,  he  set  out  at  full 
speed,  still  swinging  his  rifle  in  his  hand.  I  walked  up 
to  the  top  of  a  hill,  and,  looking  away  over  the  prairie, 
could  distinguish  the  runaways,  still  at  full  gallop.  Re- 
turning to  the  fire,  I  sat  down  at  the  foot  of  a  tree. 
Wearily  and  anxiously  hour  after  hour  passed  away.  The 
loose  bark  dangling  from  the  trunk  behind  me  flapped  to 
and  fro  in  the  wind,  and  the  mosquitoes  kept  up  their 
drowsy  hum  ;  but  other  than  this  there  was  no  sight  nor 
sound  of  life  throughout  the  burning  landscape.  The  sun 


172  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

rose  higher  and  higher,  until  I  knew  that  it  must  be  noon 
It  seemed  scarcely  possible  that  the  animals  could  be  re- 
covered. If  they  were  not,  my  situation  was  one  of  serious 
difficulty.  Shaw,  when  I  left  him,  had  decided  to  move 
that  morning,  but  whither  he  had  not  determined.  To 
look  for  him  would  be  a  vain  attempt.  Fort  Laramie  was 
forty  miles  distant,  and  I  could  not  walk  a  mile  without 
great  effort.  Not  then  having  learned  the  philosophy  of 
yielding  to  disproportionate  obstacles,  I  resolved,  come 
what  would,  to  continue  the  pursuit  of  the  Indians.  Only 
one  plan  occurred  to  me ;  this  was,  to  send  Raymond  to 
the  fort. with  an  order  for  more  horses,  while  I  remained 
on  the  spot,  awaiting  his  return,  which  might  take  place 
within  three  days.  But  to  remain  stationary  and  alone 
for  three  days,  in  a  country  full  of  dangerous  Indians, 
was  not  the  most  flattering  of  prospects ;  and,  protracted 
as  my  Indian  hunt  must  be  by  such  delay,  it  was  not  easy 
to  foretell  its  result.  Revolving  these  matters,  I  grew 
hungry ;  and  as  our  stock  of  provisions,  except  four  or 
five  pounds  of  flour,  was  by  this  time  exhausted,  I  left  the 
camp  to  see  what  game  I  could  find.  Nothing  could  be 
seen  except  four  or  five  large  curlews  wheeling  over  my 
head,  and  now  and  then  alighting  upon  the  prairie.  I 
shot  two  of  them,  and  was  about  returning,  when  a  start- 
ling sight  caught  my  eye.  A  small,  dark  object,  like  a 
human  head,  suddenly  appeared,  and  vanished  among  the 
thick  bushes  along  the  stream  below.  In  that  country 
every  stranger  is  a  suspected  enemy ;  and  I  threw  forward 
the  muzzle  of  my  rifle.  In  a  moment  the  bushes  were  vio- 
lently shaken,  two  heads,  but  not  human  heads, protruded, 
and  to  my  great  joy  I  recognized  the  downcast,  disconso- 
late countenance  of  the  black  mule  and  the  yellow  visage 
of  Pauline.  Raymond  came  upon  the  mule,  pale  and 
haggard,  complaining  of  a  fiery  pain  in  his  chest.  I  took 


HUNTING   INDIANS.  173 

charge  of  the  animals  while  he  kneeled  down  by  the  side 
of  the  stream  to  drink.  He  had  kept  the  runaways  in 
sight  as  far  as  the  Side  Fork  of  Laramie  Creek,  a  dis- 
tance of  more  than  ten  miles  ;  and  here  with  great  diffi- 
culty he  had  succeeded  in  catching  them.  I  saw  that  he 
was  unarmed,  and  asked  him  what  he  had  done  with  his 
rifle.  It  had  encumbered  him  in  his  pursuit,  and  he  had 
dropped  it  on  the  prairie,  thinking  that  he  could  find  it 
on  his  return  ;  but  in  this  he  had  failed.  The  loss  might 
prove  a  very  serious  one.  I  was  too  much  rejoiced,  how- 
ever, at  the  recovery  of  the  animals,  and  at  the  fidelity 
of  Raymond,  who  might  easily  have  deserted  with  them, 
to  think  much  about  it ;  and  having  made  some  tea  for 
him  in  a  tin  vessel  which  we  had  brought  with  us,  I  told 
him  that  I  would  give  him  two  hours  for  resting  before 
we  set  out  again.  He  had  eaten  nothing  that  day;  but 
having  no  appetite,  he  lay  down  immediately  to  sleep.  I 
picketed  the  animals  among  the  best  grass  that  I  could 
find,  and  made  fires  of  green  wood  to  protect  them  from 
the  flies ;  then  sitting  down  again  by  the  tree,  I  watched 
the  slow  movements  of  the  sun,  grudging  every  moment 
that  passed. 

The  time  I  had  mentioned  expired,  and  I  awoke  Ray- 
mond. We  saddled  and  set  out  again,  but  first  we  went 
in  search  of  the  lost  rifle,  and  in  the  course  of  an  hour 
were  fortunate  enough  to  find  it.  Then  we  turned  west- 
ward, and  moved  over  the  hills  and  hollows  at  a  slow  pace 
towards  the  Black  Hills.  The  heat  no  longer  tormented 
us,  for  a  cloud  was  before  the  sun.  The  air  grew  fresh  and 
cool,  the  distant  mountains  frowned  more  gloomily,  there 
was  a  low  muttering  of  thunder,  and  dense  black  masses 
of  cloud  rose  heavily  behind  the  broken  peaks.  At  first 
they  were  fringed  with  silver  by  the  afternoon  sun ;  but 
Boon  thick  blackness  overspread  the  sky,  and  the  desert 


174  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

around  us  was  wrapped  in  gloom.  There  was  an  awful 
sublimity  in  the  hoarse  murmuring  of  the  thunder,  and 
the  sombre  shadows  that  involved  the  mountains  and  the 
plain.  The  storm  broke  with  a  zigzag  blinding  flash,  a 
terrific  crash  of  thunder,  and  a  hurricane  that  howled 
over  the  prairie,  dashing  floods  of  water  against  us, 
Raymond  looked  about  him  and  cursed  the  merciless  ele- 
ments. There  seemed  no  shelter  near,  but  we  discerned 
at  length  a  deep  ravine  gashed  in  the  level  prairie,  and  saw 
half-way  down  its  side  an  old  pine-tree,  whose  rough  hori- 
zontal boughs  formed  a  sort  of  pent-house  against  the 
tempest.  We  found  a  practicable  passage,  led  our  ani- 
mals down,  and  fastened  them  to  large  loose  stones  at  the 
bottom ;  then  climbing  up,  we  drew  our  blankets  over  our 
heads,  and  crouched  close  beneath  the  old  tree.  Perhaps 
I  was  no  competent  judge  of  time,  but  it  seemed  to  me 
that  we  were  sitting  there  a  full  hour,  while  around  us 
poured  a  deluge  of  rain,  through  which  the  rocks  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  gulf  were  barely  visible.  The 
first  burst  of  the  tempest  soon  subsided,  but  the  rain 
poured  in  steady  torrents.  At  length  Raymond  grew 
impatient,  and  scrambling  out  of  the  ravine,  gained  the 
level  prairie  above. 

"  What  does  the  weather  look  like  ?  "  asked  I,  from 
my  seat  under  the  tree. 

"  It  looks  bad,"  he  answered :  "  dark  all  round ;  "  and 
again  he  descended  and  sat  down  by  my  side.  Some  ten 
minutes  elapsed. 

"  Go  up  again,"  said  I,  "  and  take  another  look ; "  and 
he  clambered  up  the  precipice.  "  Well,  how  is  it?" 

"  Just  the  same,  only  I  see  one  little  bright  spot  ovei 
the  top  of  the  mountain." 

The  rain  by  this  time  had  begun  to  abate ;  and  going 
down  to  the  bottom  of  the  ravine,  we  loosened  the  ani- 


HUNTING  INDIANS,  175 

mals,  who  were  standing  up  to  their  knees  in  water. 
Leading  them  up  the  rocky  throat  of  the  ravine,  we 
reached  the  plain  above.  All  around  us  was  obscurity ; 
but  the  bright  spot  above  the  mountains  grew  wider  and 
ruddier,  until  at  length  the  clouds  drew  apart,  and  a  flood 
of  sunbeams  poured  down,  streaming  along  the  precipices, 
and  involving  them  in  a  thin  blue  haze,  as  soft  as  that 
which  wraps  the  Apennines  on  an  evening  in  spring. 
Rapidly  the  clouds  were  broken  and  scattered,  like  routed 
legions  of  evil  spirits.  The  plain  lay  basking  in  sun- 
beams around  us;  a  rainbow  arched  the  desert  from 
north  to  south,  and  far  in  front  a  line  of  woods  seemed 
inviting  us  to  refreshment  and  repose.  When  we  reached 
them,  they  were  glistening  with  prismatic  dew-drops,  and 
enlivened  by  the  songs  and  fbitterings  of  birds.  Strange 
winged  insects,  benumbed  by  the  rain,  were  clinging  to 
the  leaves  and  the  bark  of  the  trees. 

Raymond  kindled  a  fire  with  great  difficulty.  The 
animals  turned  eagerly  to  feed  on  the  soft  rich  grass, 
while  I,  wrapping  myself  in  my  blanket,  lay  down  and 
gazed  on  the  evening  landscape.  The  mountains,  whose 
stern  features  had  frowned  upon  us  so  gloomily,  seemed 
lighted  up  with  a  benignant  smile,  and  the  green  waving 
undulations  of  the  plain  were  gladdened  with  warm 
sunshine.  Wet,  ill,  and  wearied  as  I  was,  my  heart  grew 
lighter  at  the  view,  and  I  drew  from  it  an  augury  of 
good. 

When  morning  came,  Raymond  awoke,  coughing  vio- 
lently, though  I  had  apparently  received  no  injury.  We 
mounted,  crossed  the  little  stream,  pushed  through  the 
trees,  and  began  our  journey  over  the  plain  beyond.  And 
now,  as  we  rode  slowly  along,  we  looked  anxiously  on 
every  hand  for  traces  of  the  Indians,  not  doubting  that 
the  village  had  passed  somewhere  in  that  vicinity  ;  but 


176  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

the  scanty  shrivelled  grass  was  not  more  than  three  01 
four  inches  high,  and  the  ground  was  so  hard  that  a 
host  might  have  marched  over  it  and  left  scarcely  a. 
trace  of  its  passage.  Up  hill  and  down  hill,  and  clam- 
bering through  ravines,  we  continued  our  journey.  Asf. 
we  were  passing  the  foot  of  a  hill,  I  saw  Raymond, 
who  was  some  rods  in  advance,  suddenly  jerk  the  reins 
of  his  mule,  slide  from  his  seat,  and  run  in  a  crouch- 
ing posture  up  a  hollow ;  then  in  an  instant  I  heard 
the  sharp  crack  of  his  rifle.  A  wounded  antelope  came 
running  on  three  legs  over  the  hill.  I  lashed  Pauline 
and  made  after  him.  My  fleet  little  mare  soon  brought 
me  by  his  side,  and,  after  leaping  and  bounding  for  a 
few  moments  in  vain,  he  stood  still,  as  if  despairing 
of  escape.  His  glistening  eyes  turned  up  towards  my 
face  with  so  piteous  a  look,  that  it  was  with  feelings 
of  infinite  compunction  that  I  shot  him  through  the 
head  with  a  pistol.  Raymond  skinned  and  cut  him  up, 
and  we  hung  the  fore-quarters  to  our  saddles,  much 
rejoiced  that  our  exhausted  stock  of  provisions  was 
renewed  in  such  good  time. 

Gaining  the  top  of  a  hill,  we  could  see  along  the 
cloudy  verge  of  the  prairie  before  us  the  lines  of  trees 
and  shadowy  groves,  that  marked  the  course  of  Laramie 
Creek.  Before  noon  we  reached  its  banks,  and  began 
anxiously  to  search  them  for  footprints  of  the  Indians. 
We  followed  the  stream  for  several  miles,  now  on  the 
shore  and  now  wading  in  the  water,  scrutinizing  every 
sand-bar  and  every  muddy  bank.  So  long  was  the 
search,  that  we  began  to  fear  that  we  had  left  the  trail 
undiscovered  behind  us.  At  length  I  heard  Raymond 
shouting,  and  saw  him  jump  from  his  mule  to  examine 
some  object  under  the  shelving  bank.  I  rode  up  to  his 
side.  It  was  the  impression  of  an  Indian  moccasin. 


HUNTING   INDIANS.  177 

Encouraged  by  this,  we  continued  our  search  till  at  last 
some  appearances  on  a  soft  surface  of  earth  not  far  from 
the  shore  attracted  my  eye  ;  and  going  to  examine  them 
I  found  half  a  dozen  tracks,  some  made  by  men  and 
some  by  children.  Just  then  Raymond  observed  across 
the  stream  the  mouth  of  a  brook,  entering  it  from  the 
south.  He  forded  the  water,  rode  in  at  the  opening,  and 
in  a  moment  I  heard  him  shouting  again ;  so  I  passed 
over  and  joined  him.  The  brook  had  a  broad  sandy  bed, 
along  which  the  water  trickled  in  a  scanty  stream  ;  and 
on  either  bank  the  bushes  were  so  close  that  the  view 
was  completely  intercepted.  I  found  Raymond  stooping 
over  the  footprints  of  three  or  four  horses.  Proceeding, 
we  found  those  of  a  man,  then  those  of  a  child,  then 
those  of  more  horses ;  till  at  last  the  bushes  on  each  bank 
were  beaten  down  and  broken,  and  the  sand  ploughed  up 
with  a  multitude  of  footsteps,  and  scored  across  with  the 
furrows  made  by  the  lodge-poles  that  had  been  dragged 
through.  It  was  now  certain  that  we  had  found  the  trail. 
I  pushed  through  the  bushes,  and  at  a  little  distance  on 
the  prairie  beyond  found  the  ashes  of  a  hundred  and  fifty 
lodge-fires,  with  bones  and  pieces  of  buffalo-robes  scattered 
about,  and  the  pickets  to  which  horses  had  been  tied,  still 
standing  in  the  ground.  Elated  by  our  success,  we  se- 
lected a  convenient  tree,  and,  turning  the  animals  loose, 
prepared  to  make  a  meal  from  the  haunch  of  the  antelope. 
Hardship  and  exposure  had  thriven  with  me  wonder- 
fully. I  had  gained  both  health  and  strength  since 
leaving  La  Bonte"s  camp.  Raymond  and  I  dined  to- 
gether, in  high  spirits ;  for  we  rashly  presumed  that 
having  found  one  end  of  the  trail  we  should  have  little 
difficulty  in  reaching  the  other.  But  when  the  animals 
were  led  in,  we  found  that  our  ill-luck  had  not  ceased  to 
follow  us.  As  I  was  saddling  Pauline,  I  saw  that  her  eye 

12 


178  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

was  dull  as  lead,  and  the  hue  of  her  yellow  coat  visibly 
darkened.  I  placed  my  foot  in  the  stirrup  to  mount, 
when  she  staggered  and  fell  flat  on  her  side.  Gaining 
her  feet  with  an  effort,  she  stood  by  the  fire  with  a  droop- 
ing head.  Whether  she  had  been  bitten  by  a  snake,  or 
poisoned  by  some  noxious  plant,  or  attacked  by  a  sudden 
disorder,  it  was  hard  to  say ;  but  at  all  events,  her  sick- 
ness was  sufficiently  ill-timed  and  unfortunate.  I  suc- 
ceeded in  a  second  attempt  to  mount  her,  and  with  a  slow 
pace  we  moved  forward  on  the  trail  of  the  Indians.  It 
led  us  up  a  hill  and  over  a  dreary  plain  ;  and  here,  to  our 
great  mortification,  the  traces  almost  disappeared,  for  the 
ground  was  hard  as  adamant ;  and  if  its  flinty  surface 
had  ever  retained  the  dint  of  a  hoof,  the  marks  had  been 
washed  away  by  the  deluge  of  yesterday.  An  Indian 
village,  in  its  disorderly  march,  is  scattered  over  the 
prairie  often  to  the  width  of  half  a  mile ;  so  that  its 
trail  is  nowhere  clearly  marked,  and  the  task  of  follow- 
ing it  is  made  doubly  wearisome  and  difficult.  By  good 
fortune,  many  large  ant-hills,  a  yard  or  more  in  diameter, 
were  scattered  over  the  plain,  and  these  were  frequently 
broken  by  the  footprints  of  men  and  horses,  and  marked 
by  traces  of  the  lodge-poles.  The  succulent  leaves  of  the 
prickly-pear,  bruised  from  the  same  causes,  also  helped 
to  guide  us  ;  so,  inch  by  inch,  we  moved  along.  Often 
we  lost  the  trail  altogether,  and  then  found  it  again ;  but 
late  in  the  afternoon  we  were  totally  at  fault.  We  stood 
alone,  without  a  clew  to  guide  us.  The  broken  plain  ex- 
panded for  league  after  league  around  us,  and  in  front 
the  long  dark  ridge  of  mountains  stretched  from  north  to 
south.  Mount  Laramie,  a  little  on  our  right,  towered 
high  above  the  rest,  and  from  a  dark  valley  just  beyond 
one  of  its  lower  declivities,  we  discerned  volumes  of  white 
smoke  rising  slowly. 


HUNTING   INDIANS.  179 

"  I  think,"  said  Raymond,  "  some  Indians  must  be 
there.  Perhaps  we  had  better  go."  But  this  plan  was 
not  lightly  to  be  adopted,  and  we  determined  still  to  con- 
tinue our  search  after  the  lost  trail.  Our  good  stars 
prompted  us  to  this  decision,  for  we  afterward  had  reason 
to  believe,  from  information  given  us  by  the  Indians, 
that  the  smoke  was  raised  as  a  decoy  by  a  Crow  war- 
party. 

Evening  was  coming  on,  and  there  was  no  wood  or 
water  nearer  than  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  So  thither 
we  turned,  directing  our  course  towards  the  point  where 
Laramie  Creek  issues  upon  the  prairie.  When  we  reached 
it,  the  bare  tops  of  the  mountains  were  still  bright  with 
sunshine.  The  little  river  was  breaking,  with  an  angry 
current,  from  its  dark  prison.  There  was  something  in 
the  close  vicinity  of  the  mountains  and  the  loud  surging 
of  the  rapids,  wonderfully  cheering  and  exhilarating. 
There  was  a  grass-plot  by  the  river  bank,  surrounded 
by  low  ridges,  which  would  effectually  screen  us  and  our 
fire  from  the  sight  of  wandering  Indians.  Here,  among 
the  grass,  I  observed  numerous  circles  of  large  stones, 
traces  of  a  Dahcotah  winter  encampment.  "We  lay  down, 
and  did  not  awake  till  the  sun  was  up.  A  large  rock 
projected  from  the  shore,  and  behind  it  the  deep  water 
was  slowly  eddying  round  and  round.  The  temptation 
was  irresistible.  I  threw  off  my  clothes,  leaped  in,  suf- 
fered myself  to  be  borne  once  round  with  the  current, 
and  then,  seizing  the  strong  root  of  a  water-plant,  drew 
myself  to  the  shore.  The  effect  was  so  refreshing,  that 
I  mistook  it  for  returning  health.  But  scarcely  were  we 
mounted  and  on  our  way,  before  the  momentary  glow 
passed.  Again  I  hung  as  usual  in  my  seat,  scarcely  able 
to  hold  myself  erect. 

"  Look  yonder,"  said  Raymond ;  "  you  see  that  big 


180  THE    OEEGON   TRAIL. 

hollow  there ;  the  Indians  must  have  gone  that  way,  if 
they  went  anywhere  about  here." 

We  reached  the  gap,  which  was  like  a  deep  notch  cut 
into  the  mountain-ridge,  and  here  we  soon  found  an  ant- 
hill furrowed  with  the  mark  of  a  lodge-pole.  This  was 
quite  enough ;  there  could  be  no  doubt  now.  As  we  rode 
on,  the  opening  growing  narrower,  the  Indians  had  been 
compelled  to  march  in  closer  order,  and  the  traces  be- 
came numerous  and  distinct.  The  gap  terminated  in  a 
rocky  gateway,  leading  into  a  rough  and  steep  defile, 
between  two  precipitous  mountains.  Here  grass  and 
weeds  were  bruised  to  fragments  by  the  throng  that  had 
passed  through.  We  moved  slowly  over  the  rocks,  up 
the  passage ;  and  in  this  toilsome  manner  advanced  for 
an  hour  or  two,  bare  precipices,  hundreds  of  feet  high, 
shooting  up  on  either  hand.  Raymond,  with  his  hardy 
mule,  was  a  few  rods  before  me,  when  we  came  to  the 
foot  of  an  ascent  steeper  than  the  rest,  and  which  I 
trusted  might  prove  the  highest  point  of  the  defile.  Pau- 
line strained  upward  for  a  few  yards,  moaning  and  stum- 
bling, and  then  came  to  a  dead  stop,  unable  to  proceed 
further.  I  dismounted,  and  attempted  to  lead  her ;  but 
my  own  exhausted  strength  soon  gave  out ;  so  I  loosened 
the  trail-rope  from  her  neck,  and  tying  it  round  my  arm, 
crawled  up  on  my  hands  and  knees.  I  gained  the  top, 
totally  spent,  the  sweat-drops  trickling  from  my  forehead. 
Pauline  stood  like  a  statue  by  my  side,  her  shadow  falling 
upon  the  scorching  rock ;  and  in  this  shade,  for  there 
was  no  other,  I  lay  for  some  time,  scarcely  able  to  move  a 
limb.  All  around,  the  black  crags,  sharp  as  needles  at 
the  top,  stood  baking  in  the  sun,  without  tree  or  bush 
or  blade  of  grass  to  cover  their  nakedness.  The  whole 
scene  seemed  parched  with  a  pitiless,  insufferable  heat. 

After  a  while  I  could  mount  again,  and  we  moved  on, 


HUNTING  INDIANS.  181 

descending  the  defile  on  its  western  side.  There  was 
something  ridiculous  in  the  situation.  Man  and  horse 
were  helpless  alike.  Pauline  and  I  could  neither  fight 
nor  run. 

Raymond's  saddle-girth  slipped ;  and  while  I  proceeded 
he  stopped  to  repair  the  mischief.  I  came  to  the  top  of 
a  little  declivity,  where  a  welcome  sight  greeted  my  eye ; 
a  nook  of  fresh  green  grass  nestled  among  the  cliffs, 
sunny  clumps  of  bushes  on  one  side,  and  shaggy  old 
pine-trees  leaning  from  the  rocks  on  the  other.  A  shrill, 
familiar  voice  saluted  me,  and  recalled  me  to  days  of 
boyhood ;  that  of  the  insect  called  the  "  locust "  by  New 
England  schoolboys,  which  was  clinging  among  the  heated 
boughs  of  the  old  pine-trees.  Then,  too,  as  I  passed  the 
bushes,  the  low  sound  of  falling  water  reached  my  ear. 
Pauline  turned  of  her  own  accord,  and  pushing  through 
the  boughs,  we  found  a  black  rock,  overarched  by  the  cool 
green  canopy.  An  icy  stream  was  pouring  from  its  side 
into  a  wide  basin  of  white  sand,  whence  it  had  no  visible 
outlet,  but  filtered  through  into  the  soil  below.  While  I 
filled  a  tin  cup  at  the  spring,  Pauline  was  eagerly  plung- 
ing her  head  deep  in  the  pool.  Other  visitors  had  been 
there  before  us.  All  around  in  the  soft  soil  were  the 
footprints  of  elk,  deer,  and  the  Rocky  Mountain  sheep ; 
and  the  grizzly  bear  too  had  left  the  recent  prints  of  his 
broad  foot,  with  its  frightful  array  of  claws.  Among 
these  mountains  was  his  home. 

Soon  after  leaving  the  spring  we  found  a  little  grassy 
plain,  encircled  by  the  mountains,  and  marked,  to  our 
great  joy,  with  all  the  traces  of  an  Indian  camp.  Ray- 
mond's practised  eye  detected  certain  signs,  by  which  he 
recognized  the  spot  where  Reynal's  lodge  had  been  pitched 
and  his  horses  picketed.  I  approached,  and  stood  look- 
ing at  the  place.  Reynal  and  I  had,  I  believe,  hardly  a 


182  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

feeling  in  common,  and  it  perplexed  me  a  good  deal  to 
understand  why  I  should  look  with  so  much  interest  on 
the  ashes  of  his  fire,  when  between  him  and  me  there 
was  no  other  bond  of  sympathy  than  the  slender  and  pre- 
carious one  of  a  kindred  race. 

In  half  an  hour  from  this  we  were  free  of  the  moun- 
tains. There  was  a  plain  before  us,  totally  barren  and 
thickly  peopled  in  many  parts  with  prairie-dogs,  who  sat 
at  the  mouths  of  their  burrows  and  yelped  at  us  as  we 
passed.  The  plain,  as  we  thought,  was  about  six  miles 
wide ;  but  it  cost  us  two  hours  to  cross  it.  Then  another 
mountain-range  rose  before  us.  From  the  dense  bushes 
that  clothed  the  steeps  for  a  thousand  feet  shot  up  black 
crags,  all  leaning  one  way,  and  shattered  by  storms  and 
thunder  into  grim  and  threatening  shapes.  As  we  en- 
tered a  narrow  passage  on  the  trail  of  the  Indians,  they 
impended  frightfully  above  our  heads. 

Our  course  was  through  thick  woods,  in  the  shade  and 
sunlight  of  overhanging  boughs.  As  we  wound  from  side 
to  side  of  the  passage,  to  avoid  its  obstructions,  we  could 
see  at  intervals,  through  the  foliage,  the  awful  forms  of 
the  gigantic  cliffs,  that  seemed  to  hem  us  in  on  the  right 
and  on  the  left,  before  and  behind. 

In  an  open  space,  fenced  in  by  high  rocks,  stood  two 
Indian  forts,  of  a  square  form,  rudely  built  of  sticks  and 
logs.  They  were  somewhat  ruinous,  having  probably  been 
constructed  the  year  before.  Each  might  have  contained 
about  twenty  men.  Perhaps  in  this  gloomy  spot  some 
party  had  been  beset  by  enemies,  and  those  scowling  rocks 
and  blasted  trees  might  not  long  since  have  looked  down 
on  a  conflict,  unchronicled  and  unknown.  Yet  if  any 
traces  of  bloodshed  remained  they  were  hidden  by  the 
bushes  and  tall  rank  weeds. 

Gradually  the  mountains  drew  apart,  and  the  passage 


HUNTING   INDIANS.  183 

expanded  into  a  plain,  where  again  we  found  traces  of  an 
Indian  encampment.  There  were  trees  and  bushes  just 
before  us,  and  we  stopped  here  for  an  hour's  rest  and  re- 
freshment. When  we  had  finished  our  meal,  Raymond 
struck  fire,  and,  lighting  his  pipe,  sat  down  at  the  foot  of 
a  tree  to  smoke.  For  some  time  I  observed  him  puffing 
away  with  a  face  of  unusual  solemnity.  Then  slowly 
taking  the  pipe  from  his  lips,  he  looked  up  and  remarked 
that  we  had  better  not  go  any  farther. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  I. 

He  said  that  the  country  was  become  very  dangerous, 
that  we  were  entering  the  range  of  the  Snakes,  Arapahoes, 
and  Gros-ventre  Blackfeet,  and  that  if  any  of  their  wan- 
dering parties  should  meet  us,  it  would  cost  us  our  lives ; 
but  he  added  with  blunt  fidelity,  that  he  would  go  any- 
where I  wished.  I  told  him  to  bring  up  the  animals,  and 
mounting  them  we  proceeded  again.  I  confess  that,  as 
we  moved  forward,  the  prospect  seemed  but  a  doubtful 
one.  I  would  have  given  the  world  for  my  ordinary 
elasticity  of  body  and  mind,  and  for  a  horse  of  such 
strength  and  spirit  as  the  journey  required. 

Closer  and  closer  the  rocks  gathered  round  us,  growing 
taller  and  steeper,  and  pressing  more  and  more  upon  our 
path.  We  entered  at  length  a  defile  which,  in  its  way, 
I  never  have  seen  rivalled.  The  mountain  was  cracked 
from  top  to  bottom,  and  we  were  creeping  along  the  bot- 
tom of  the  fissure,  in  dampness  and  gloom,  with  the  clink 
of  hoofs  on  the  loose  shingly  rocks,  and  the  hoarse  mur- 
muring of  a  petulant  brook  which  kept  us  company. 
Sometimes  the  water,  foaming  among  the  stones,  over- 
spread the  whole  narrow  passage  ;  sometimes,  withdraw- 
ing to  one  side,  it  gave  us  room  to  pass  dry-shod.  Looking 
up,  we  could  see  a  narrow  ribbon  of  bright  blue  sky  be- 
tween the  dark  edges  of  the  opposing  cliffs.  This  did 


184  THE   OKEGOtf   TKAIL. 

not  last  long.  The  passage  soon  widened,  and  sunbeams 
found  their  way  down,  flashing  upon  the  black  waters. 
The  defile  would  spread  to  many  rods  in  width ;  bushes, 
trees,  and  flowers  would  spring  by  the  side  of  the  brook ; 
the  cliffs  would  be  feathered  with  shrubbery,  that  clung 
in  every  crevice,  and  fringed  with  trees,  that  grew  along 
their  sunny  edges.  Then  we  would  be  moving  again  in 
darkness.  The  passage  seemed  about  four  miles  long, 
and  before  we  reached  the  end  of  it,  the  unshod  hoofs  of 
our  animals  were  broken,  and  their  legs  cut  by  the  sharp 
stones.  Issuing  from  the  mountain  we  found  another 
plain.  All  around  it  stood  a  circle  of  precipices,  that 
seemed  the  impersonation  of  Silence  and  Solitude.  Here 
again  the  Indians  had  encamped,  as  well  they  might,  after 
passing  with  their  women,  children,  and  horses,  through 
the  gulf  behind  us.  In  one  day  we  had  made  a  journey 
which  it  had  cost  them  three  to  accomplish. 

The  only  outlet  to  this  amphitheatre  lay  over  a  hill 
some  two  hundred  feet  high,  up  which  we  moved  with 
difficulty.  Looking  from  the  top,  we  saw  that  at  last  we 
were  free  of  the  mountains.  The  prairie  spread  before 
us,  but  so  wild  and  broken  that  the  view  was  everywhere 
obstructed.  Far  on  our  left  one  tall  hill  swelled  up 
against  the  sky,  on  the  smooth,  pale-green  surface  of 
which  four  slowly  moving  black  specks  were  discernible. 
They  were  evidently  buffalo,  and  we  hailed  the  sight  as  a 
good  augury ;  for  where  the  buffalo  were,  there  the  In- 
dians would  probably  be  found.  We  hoped  on  that  very 
night  to  reach  the  village.  We  were  anxious  to  do  so  for 
a  double  reason,  wishing  to  bring  our  journey  to  an  end, 
and  knowing  moreover  that  though  to  enter  the  village  in 
broad  daylight  would  be  perfectly  safe,  yet  to  encamp  in 
its  vicinity  would  be  dangerous.  But  as  we  rode  on,  the 
sun  was  sinking,  and  soon  was  within  half  an  hour  of 


HUNTING   INDIANS.  185 

the  horizon.  We  ascended  a  hill  and  looked  about  us  for 
a  spot  for  our  encampment.  The  prairie  was  like  a  tur- 
bulent ocean,  suddenly  congealed  when  its  waves  were  at 
the  highest,  and  it  lay  half  in  light  and  half  in  shadow, 
as  the  rich  sunshine,  yellow  as  gold,  was  pouring  over  it. 
The  rough  bushes  of  the  wild  sage  were  growing  every- 
where, its  dull  pale-green  overspreading  hill  and  hollow. 
Yet  a  little  way  before  us,  a  bright  verdant  line  of  grass 
was  winding  along  the  plain,  and  here  and  there  through- 
out its  course  glistened  pools  of  water.  We  went  down 
to  it,  kindled  a  fire,  and  turned  our  horses  loose  to  feed. 
It  was  a  little  trickling  brook,  that  for  some  yards  on 
either  side  turned  the  barren,  prairie  into  fertility,  and 
here  and  there  it  spread  into  deep  pools,  where  the 
beavers  had  dammed  it  up. 

We  placed  our  last  remaining  piece  of  antelope  before 
a  scanty  fire,  mournfully  reflecting  on  our  exhausted  stock 
of  provisions.  Just  then  a  large  gray  hare,  peculiar  to 
these  prairies,  came  jumping  along,  and  seated  himself 
within  fifty  yards  to  look  at  us.  I  thoughtlessly  raised 
my  rifle  to  shoot  him,  but  Raymond  called  out  to  me  not 
to  fire  for  fear  the  report  should  reach  the  ears  of  the 
Indians.  That  night  for  the  first  time  we  considered  that 
the  danger  to  which  we  were  exposed  was  of  a  somewhat 
serious  character ;  and  to  those  who  are  unacquainted 
with  Indians,  it  may  seem  strange  that  our  chief  appre- 
hensions arose  from  the  supposed  proximity  of  the  people 
whom  we  intended  to  visit.  Had  any  straggling  party  of 
these  faithful  friends  caught  sight  of  us  from  the  hill-top, 
they  would  probably  have  returned  in  the  night  to  plun- 
der us  of  our  horses,  and  perhaps  of  our  scalps.  But  the 
prairie  is  unfavorable  to  nervousness ;  and  I  presume 
that  neither  Raymond  nor  I  thought  twice  of  the  matter 
that  evening. 


186  THE   OREGON  TRAIL. 

For  eight  hours  pillowed  on  our  saddles,  we  lay  in- 
sensible as  logs.  Pauline's  yellow  head  was  stretched 
over  me  when  I  awoke.  I  rose  and  examined  her.  Her 
feet  were  bruised  and  swollen  by  the  accidents  of  yester- 
day, but  her  eye  was  brighter,  her  motions  livelier,  and 
her  mysterious  malady  had  visibly  abated.  We  moved 
on,  hoping  within  an  hour  to  come  in  sight  of  the  Indian 
village ;  but  again  disappointment  awaited  us.  The  trail 
disappeared  upon  a  hard  and  stony  plain.  Raymond  and  I 
rode  from  side  to  side,  scrutinizing  every  yard  of  ground, 
until  at'  length  I  found  traces  of  the  lodge-poles,  by  the 
side  of  a  ridge  of  rocks.  We  began  again  to  follow 
them. 

"  What  is  that  black  spot  out  there  on  the  prairie  ?  " 

"  It  looks  like  a  dead  buffalo,"  answered  Raymond. 

We  rode  to  it,  and  found  it  to  be  the  huge  carcass  of 
a  bull  killed  by  the  hunters  as  they  had  passed.  Tangled 
hair  and  scraps  of  hide  were  scattered  on  all  sides,  for 
the  wolves  had  made  merry  over  it,  and  hollowed  out  the 
entire  carcass.  It  was  covered  with  myriads  of  large 
black  crickets,  and  from  its  appearance  must  have  lain 
there  four  or  five  days.  The  sight  was  a  disheartening 
one,  and  I  observed  to  Raymond  that  the  Indians  might 
still  be  fifty  or  sixty  miles  off.  But  he  shook  his  head, 
and  replied  that  they  dared  not  go  so  far  for  fear  of  their 
enemies,  the  Snakes. 

Soon  after  this  we  lost  the  trail  again,  and  ascended  a 
neighboring  ridge,  totally  at  a  loss.  Before  us  lay  a 
plain  perfectly  flat,  spreading  on  the  right  and  left,  without 
apparent  limit,  and  bounded  in  front  by  a  long  broken  line 
of  hills,  ten  or  twelve  miles  distant.  All  was  open  and  ex- 
posed to  view,  yet  not  a  buffalo  nor  an  Indian  was  visible. 

"  Do  you  see  that  ?  "  said  Raymond :  "  now  we  had 
better  turn  round." 


HUNTING  INDIANS.  187 

But  as  Raymond's  "bourgeois  thought  otherwise,  we  de- 
scended the  hill  and  began  to  cross  the  plain.  We  had 
come  so  far  that  neither  Pauline's  limbs  nor  my  own 
could  carry  me  back  to  Fort  Laramie.  I  considered  that 
the  lines  of  expediency  and  inclination  tallied  exactly, 
and  that  the  most  prudent  course  was  to  keep  forward. 
The  ground  immediately  around  us  was  thickly  strewn 
with  the  skulls  and  bones  of  buffalo,  for  here  a  year  or 
two  before  the  Indians  had  made  a  "  surround  ; "  yet  no 
living  game  was  in  sight.  At  length  an  antelope  sprang 
up  and  gazed  at  us.  We  fired  together,  and  both  missed, 
although  the  animal  stood,  a  fair  mark,  within  eighty 
yards.  This  ill-success  might  perhaps  be  charged  to  our 
own  eagerness,  for  by  this  time  we  had  no  provisions 
left  except  a  little  flour.  We  could  see  several  pools  of 
water,  glistening  in  the  distance.  As  we  approached, 
wolves  and  antelopes  bounded  away  through  the  tall 
grass  around  them,  and  flocks  of  large  white  plover  flew 
screaming  over  their  surface.  Having  failed  of  the  ante- 
lope, Raymond  tried  his  hand  at  the  birds,  with  the  same 
ill-success.  The  water  also  disappointed  us.  Its  margin 
was  so  mired  by  the  crowd  of  buffalo  that  our  timorous 
animals  were  afraid  to  approach.  So  we  turned  away 
and  moved  towards  the  hills.  The  rank  grass,  where  it 
was  not  trampled  down  by  the  buffalo,  fairly  swept  our 
horses'  necks. 

Again  we  found  the  same  execrable  barren  prairie 
offering  no  clew  by  which  to  guide  our  way.  As  we  drew 
near  the  hills,  an  opening  appeared,  through  which  the 
Indians  must  have  gone  if  they  had  passed  that  way  at 
all.  Slowly  we  began  to  ascend  it.  I  felt  the  most 
dreary  forebodings  of  ill-success,  when  on  looking  round 
I  could  discover  neither  dent  of  hoof,  nor  footprint,  nor 
trace  of  lodge-pole,  though  the  passage  was  encumbered 


188  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

by  the  skulls  of  buffalo.  We  heard  thunder  muttering ; 
another  storm  was  coming  on. 

As  we  gained  the  top  of  the  gap,  the  prospect  beyond 
began  to  disclose  itself.  First,  we  saw  a  long  dark  line 
of  ragged  clouds  upon  the  horizon,  while  above  them  rose 
the  peaks  of  the  Medicine-Bow  range,  the  vanguard  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains ;  then  little  by  little  the  plain  came 
into  view,  a  vast  green  uniformity,  forlorn  and  tenantless, 
though  Laramie  Creek  glistened  in  a  waving  line  over  its 
surface,  without  a  bush  or  a  tree  upon  its  banks.  As  yet, 
the  round  projecting  shoulder  of  a  hill  intercepted  a  part 
of  the  view.  I  rode  in  advance,  when  suddenly  I  could 
distinguish  a  few  dark  spots  on  the  prairie,  along  the 
bank  of  the  stream. 

"  Buffalo !  "  said  I. 

"  Horses,  by  God !  "  exclaimed  Raymond,  lashing  his 
mule  forward  as  he  spoke.  More  and  more  of  the  plain 
disclosed  itself,  and  more  and  more  horses  appeared, 
scattered  along  the  river  bank,  or  feeding  in  bands  over 
the  prairie.  Then,  standing  in  a  circle  by  the  stream, 
swarming  with  their  savage  inhabitants,  we  saw,  a  mile 
or  more  off,  the  tall  lodges  of  the  Ogillallah.  Never  did 
the  heart  of  wanderer  more  gladden  at  the  sight  of  home 
than  did  mine  at  the  sight  of  that  Indian  camp. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  OGILLALLAH  VILLAGE. 

THIS  is  hardly  the  place  for  portraying  the  mental 
features  of  the  Indians.  The  same  picture,  slightly 
changed  in  shade  and  coloring,  would  serve  with  very  few 
exceptions  for  all  the  tribes  north  of  the  Mexican  terri- 
tories. But  with  this  similarity  in  their  modes  of  thought, 
the  tribes  of  the  lake  and  ocean  shores,  of  the  forests 
and  of  the  plains,  differ  greatly  in  their  manner  of  life. 
Having  been  domesticated  for  several  weeks  among  one 
of  the  wildest  of  the  hordes  that  roam  over  the  remote 
prairies,  I  had  unusual  opportunities  of  observing  them, 
and  flatter  myself  that  a  sketch  of  the  scenes  that  passed 
daily  before  my  eyes  may  not  be  devoid  of  interest. 
They  were  thorough  savages.  Neither  their  manners  nor 
their  ideas  were  in  the  slightest  degree  modified  by  con- 
tact with  civilization.  They  knew  nothing  of  the  power 
and  real  character  of  the  white  men,  and  their  children 
would  scream  in  terror  when  they  saw  me.  Their  relig- 
ion, superstitions,  and  prejudices  were  the  same  handed 
down  to  them  from  immemorial  time.  They  fought  with 
the  weapons  that  their  fathers  fought  with,  and  wore  the 
same  garments  of  skins.  They  were  living  representa- 
tives of  the  "  stone  age  ; "  for  though  their  lances  and 
arrows  were  tipped  with  iron  procured  from  the  traders, 
they  still  used  the  rude  stone  mallet  of  the  primeval 
world. 


190  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

Great  changes  are  at  hand  in  that  region.  With  the 
stream  of  emigration  to  Oregon  and  California,  the  buffalo 
will  dwindle  away,  and  the  large  wandering  communities 
who  depend  on  them  for  support  must  be  broken  and 
scattered.  The  Indians  will  soon  be  abased  by  whiskey 
and  overawed  by  military  posts ;  so  that  within  a  few 
years  the  traveller  may  pass  in  tolerable  security  through 
their  country.  Its  danger  and  its  charm  will  have  dis- 
appeared together. 

As  soon  as  Raymond  and  I  discovered  the  village  from 
the  gap  in  the  hills,  we  were  seen  in  our  turn ;  keen  eyes 
were  constantly  on  the  watch.  As  we  rode  down  upon 
the  plain,  the  side  of  the  village  nearest  us  was  darkened 
with  a  crowd  of  naked  figures.  Several  men  came  for- 
ward to  meet  us.  I  could  distinguish  among  them  the 
green  blanket  of  the  Frenchman  Reynal.  When  we  came 
up  the  ceremony  of  shaking  hands  had  to  be  gone  through 
in  due  form,  and  then  all  were  eager  to  know  what  had 
become  of  the  rest  of  my  party.  I  satisfied  them  on  this 
point,  and  we  all  moved  together  towards  the  village. 

"  You've  missed  it,"  said  Reynal ;  "  if  you'd  been  here 
day  before  yesterday,  you'd  have  found  the  whole  prairie 
over  yonder  black  with  buffalo  as  far  as  you  could  see. 
There  were  no  cows,  though ;  nothing  but  bulls.  We 
made  a  4  surround '  every  day  till  yesterday.  See  the 
village  there;  don't  that  look  like  good  living?" 

In  fact  I  could  see,  even  at  that  distance,  long  cords 
stretched  from  lodge  to  lodge,  over  which  the  meat,  cut 
by  the  squaws  into  thin  sheets,  was  hanging  to  dry  in  the 
sun.  I  noticed  too  that  the  village  was  somewhat  smaller 
than  when  I  had  last  seen  it,  and  I  asked  Reynal  the 
cause.  He  said  that  old  Le  Borgne  had  felt  too  weak  to 
pass  over  the  mountains,  and  so  had  remained  behind 
with  all  his  relations,  including  Mahto-Tatonka  and  his 


THE    OGILLALLAH   VILLAGE.  191 

brothers.  The  Whirlwind  too  had  been  unwilling  to 
come  so  far,  because,  as  Reynal  said,  he  was  afraid. 
Only  half  a  dozen  lodges  had  adhered  to  him,  the  main 
body  of  the  village  setting  their  chiefs  authority  at 
naught,  and  taking  the  course  most  agreeable  to  their 
inclinations. 

"What  chiefs  are  there  in  the  village  now? "asked  I. 

"  Well,"  said  Reynal,  "  there's  old  Red-Water,  and  the 
Eagle-Feather,  and  the  Big  Crow,  and  the  Mad  Wolf, 
and  The  Panther,  and  the  White  Shield,  and  —  what's 
his  name  ?  —  the  half-breed  Shienne." 

By  this  time  we  were  close  to  the  village,  and  I  ob- 
served that  while  the  greater  part  of  the  lodges  were  very- 
large  and  neat  in  their  appearance,  there  was  at  one  side 
a  cluster  of  squalid,  miserable  huts.  I  looked  towards 
them,  and  made  some  remark  about  their  wretched  ap- 
pearance. But  I  was  touching  upon  delicate  ground. 

"  My  squaw's  relations  live  in  those  lodges,"  said  Rey- 
nal, very  warmly ;  "  and  there  isn't  a  better  set  in  the 
whole  village." 

"  Are  there  any  chiefs  among  them  ?  " 

"  Chiefs  ?  "  said  Reynal ;  "  yes,  plenty  I " 

"  What  are  their  names  ?  " 

"  Their  names  ?  Why,  there's  the  Arrow-Head.  If 
he  isn't  a  chief  he  ought  to  be  one.  And  there's  the 
Hail-Storm.  He's  nothing  but  a  boy,  to  be  sure ;  but  he's 
bound  to  be  a  chief  one  of  these  days." 

Just  then  we  passed  between  two  of  the  lodges,  and 
entered  the  great  area  of  the  village.  Superb,  naked 
figures  stood  silently  gazing  on  us. 

«  Where's  the  Bad  Wound's  lodge  ?  "  said  I  to  Reynal. 

"  There  you've  missed  it  again  I  The  Bad  Wound  is 
away  with  The  Whirlwind.  If  you  could  have  found  him 
here,  and  gone  to  live  in  his  lodge,  he  would  have  treated 


192  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

you  better  than  any  man  in  the  village.  But  there's  the 
Big  Crow's  lodge  yonder,  next  to  old  Red-Water's.  He's 
a  good  Indian  for  the  whites,  and  I  advise  you  to  go  and 
live  with  him." 

"Are  there  many  squaws  and  children  in  his  lodge? " 
said  I. 

"  No ;  only  one  squaw  and  two  or  three  children.  He 
keeps  the  rest  in  a  separate  lodge  by  themselves." 

So,  still  followed  by  a  crowd  of  Indians,  Raymond  and 
I  rode  up  to  the  entrance  of  the  Big  Crow's  lodge.  A 
squaw  came  out  immediately  and  took  our  horses.  I  put 
aside  the  leather  flap  that  covered  the  low  opening,  and 
stooping,  entered  the  Big  Crow's  dwelling.  There  I  could 
see  the  chief  in  the  dim  light,  seated  at  one  side,  on  a  pile 
of  buffalo-robes.  He  greeted  me  with  a  guttural  "  How, 
colk  ! "  I  requested  Reynal  to  tell  him  that  Raymond 
and  I  were  come  to  live  with  him.  The  Big  Crow  gave 
another  low  exclamation.  The  announcement  may  seem 
intrusive,  but,  in  fact,  every  Indian  in  the  village  would 
have  deemed  himself  honored  that  white  men  should  give 
such  preference  to  his  hospitality. 

The  squaw  spread  a  buffalo-robe  for  us  in  the  guest's 
place  at  the  head  of  the  lodge.  Our  saddles  were  brought 
in,  and  scarcely  were  we  seated  upon  them  before  the 
place  was  thronged  with  Indians,  crowding  in  to  see  us. 
The  Big  Crow  produced  his  pipe  and  filled  it  with  the 
mixture  of  tobacco  and  shongsasha,  or  red  willow  bark. 
Round  and  round  it  passed,  and  a  lively  conversation  went 
forward.  Meanwhile  a  squaw  placed  before  the  two  guests 
a  wooden  bowl  of  boiled  buffalo-meat ;  but  unhappily  this 
was  not  the  only  banquet  destined  to  be  inflicted  on  us. 
One  after  another,  boys  and  young  squaws  thrust  their 
heads  in  at  the  opening,  to  invite  us  to  various  feasts  in 
different  parts  of  the  village.  For  half  an  hour  or  more 


THE  OGILLALLAH  VILLAGE.        193 

we  were  actively  engaged  in  passing  from  lodge  to  lodge, 
tasting  in  each  of  the  bowl  of  meat  set  before  us,  and 
inhaling  a  whiff  or  two  from  our  entertainer's  pipe.  A 
thunder-storm  that  had  been  threatening  for  some  time 
now  began  in  good  earnest.  We  crossed  over  to  Rey- 
nal's  lodge,  though  it  hardly  deserved  the  name,  for  it 
consisted  only  of  a  few  old  buffalo-robes,  supported  on 
poles,  and  was  quite  open  on  one  side.  Here  we  sat 
down,  and  the  Indians  gathered  round  us. 

«  What  is  it,"  said  I,  "  that  makes  the  thunder?  " 

"  It's  my  belief,"  said  Reynal,  "  that  it's  a  big  stone 
rolling  over  the  sky." 

"  Very  likely,"  I  replied ;  "  but  I  want  to  know  what 
the  Indians  think  about  it." 

So  he  interpreted  my  question,  which  produced  some 
debate.  There  was  a  difference  of  opinion.  At  last  old 
Mene-Seela,  or  Red- Water,  who  sat  by  himself  at  one 
side,  looked  up  with  his  withered  face,  and  said  he  had 
always  known  what  the  thunder  was.  It  was  a  great 
black  bird ;  and  once  he  had  seen  it,  in  a  dream,  swoop- 
ing down  from  the  Black  Hills,  with  its  loud  roaring 
wings  ;  and  when  it  flapped  them  over  a  lake,  they  struck 
lightning  from  the  water. 

"  The  thunder  is  bad,"  said  another  old  man,  who  sat 
muffled  in  his  buffalo-robe ;  "  he  killed  my.  brother  last 
summer." 

Reynal,  at  my  request,  asked  for  an  explanation ;  but 
the  old  man  remained  doggedly  silent,  and  would  not 
look  up.  Some  time  after,  I  learned  how  the  accident 
occurred.  The  man  who  was  killed  belonged  to  an  asso- 
ciation which,  among  other  mystic  functions,  claimed  the 
exclusive  power  and  privilege  of  fighting  the  thunder. 
Whenever  a  storm  which  they  wished  to  avert  was  threat- 
ening, the  thunder-fighters  would  take  their  bows  and 


194  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

arrows,  their  guns,  their  magic  drum,  and  a  sort  of 
whistle,  made  out  of  the  wing-bone  of  the  war-eagle,  and, 
thus  equipped,  run  out  and  fire  at  the  rising  cloud,  whoop- 
ing, yelling,  whistling,  and  beating  their  drum,  to  frighten 
it  down  again.  One  afternoon,  a  heavy  black  cloud  was 
coming  up,  and  they  repaired  to  the  top  of  a  hill,  where 
they  brought  all  their  magic  artillery  into  play  against  it. 
But  the  undaunted  thunder,  refusing  to  be  terrified, 
darted  out  a  bright  flash,  which  struck  one  of  the  party 
dead  as  he  was  in  the  very  act  of  shaking  his  long  iron- 
pointed  lance  against  it.  The  rest  scattered  and  ran  yelling 
in  an  ecstasy  of  superstitious  terror  back  to  their  lodges. 
The  lodge  of  my  host  Kongra-Tonga,  or  the  Big  Crow, 
presented  a  picturesque  spectacle  that  evening.  A  score 
or  more  of  Indians  were  seated  around  it  in  a  circle,  their 
dark  naked  forms  just  visible  by  the  dull  light  of  the 
smouldering  fire  in  the  middle.  The  pipe  glowed  brightly 
in  the  gloom  as  it  passed  from  hand  to  hand.  Then  a 
squaw  would  drop  a  piece  of  buffalo-fat  on  the  dull  em- 
bers. Instantly  a  bright  flame  would  leap  up,  darting  its 
light  to  the  very  apex  of  the  tall  conical  structure,  where 
the  tops  of  the  slender  poles  that  supported  the  covering 
of  hide  were  gathered  together.  It  gilded  the  features 
of  the  Indians,  as  with  animated  gestures  they  sat  around 
it,  telling  their  endless  stories  of  war  and  hunting,  and 
displayed  rude  garments  of  skins  that  hung  around  the 
lodge ;  the  bow,  quiver,  and  lance,  suspended  over  the 
resting-place  of  the  chief,  and  the  rifles  and  powder-horns 
of  the  two  white  guests.  For  a  moment  all  would  be 
bright  as  day;  then  the  flames  would  die  out;  fitful 
flashes  from  the  embers  would  illumine  the  lodge,  and 
then  leave  it  in  darkness.  Then  the  light  would  wholly 
fade,  and  the  lodge  and  all  within  it  be  involved  again  in 
obscurity. 


THE    OGILLALLAH   VILLAGE.  195 

As  I  left  the  lodge  next  morning,  I  was  saluted  by 
howling  and  yelping  all  around  the  village,  and  half  its 
canine  population  rushed  forth  to  the  attack.  Being  as 
cowardly  as  they  were  clamorous,  they  kept  jumping 
about  me  at  the  distance  of  a  few  yards,  only  one  little 
cur,  about  ten  inches  long,  having  spirit  enough  to  make 
a  direct  assault.  He  dashed  valiantly  at  the  leather  tassel 
which  in  the  Dahcotah  fashion  was  trailing  behind  the 
heel  of  my  moccasin,  and  kept  his  hold,  growling  and 
snarling  all  the  while,  though  every  step  I  made  almost 
jerked  him  over  on  his  back.  As  I  knew  that  the  eyes 
of  the  whole  village  were  on  the  watch  to  see  if  I  showed 
any  sign  of  fear,  I  walked  forward  without  looking  to  the 
right  or  left,  surrounded  wherever  I  went  by  this  magic 
circle  of  dogs.  When  I  came  to  Reynal's  lodge  I  sat 
down  by  it,  on  which  the  dogs  dispersed  growling  to  their 
respective  quarters.  Only  one  large  white  one  remained, 
running  about  before  me  and  showing  his  teeth.  I  called 
him,  but  he  only  growled  the  more.  I  looked  at  him 
well.  He  was  fat  and  sleek ;  j  ust  such  a  dog  as  I  wanted. 
"  My  friend,"  thought  I,  "you  shall  pay  for  this  !  I  will 
have  you  eaten  this  very  morning  !  " 

I  intended  that  day  to  give  the  Indians  a  feast,  by  way 
of  conveying  a  favorable  impression  of  my  character  and 
dignity ;  and  a  white  dog  is  the  dish  which  the  customs  of 
the  Dahcotah  prescribe  for  all  occasions  of  formality  and 
importance.  I  consulted  Reynal:  he  soon  discovered 
that  an  old  woman  in  the  next  lodge  was  owner  of  the 
white  dog.  I  took  a  gaudy  cotton  handkerchief,  and, 
laying  it  on  the  ground,  arranged  some  vermilion,  beads, 
and  other  trinkets  upon  it.  Then  the  old  squaw  was  sum- 
moned. I  pointed  to  the  dog  and  to  the  handkerchief. 
She  gave  a  scream  of  delight,  snatched  up  the  prize,  and 
vanished  with  it  into  her  lodge.  For  a  few  more  trifles, 


196  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

I  engaged  the  services  of  two  other  squaws,  each  of  whom 
took  the  white  dog  by  one  of  his  paws,  and  led  him  away 
behind  the  lodges.  Having  killed  him  they  threw  him 
into  a  fire  to  singe ;  then  chopped  him  up  and  put  him 
into  two  large  kettles  to  boil.  Meanwhile  I  told  Raymond 
to  fry  in  buffalo  fat  what  little  flour  we  had  left,  and  also 
to  make  a  kettle  of  tea  as  an  additional  luxury. 

The  Big  Crow's  squaw  was  briskly  at  work  sweeping 
out  the  lodge  for  the  approaching  festivity.  I  confided 
to  my  host  himself  the  task  of  inviting  the  guests,  think- 
ing that  I  might  thereby  shift  from  my  own  shoulders  the 
odium  of  neglect  and  oversight. 

When  feasting  is  in  question,  one  hour  of  the  day  serves 
an  Indian  as  well  as  another.  My  entertainment  came  off 
at  about  eleven  o'clock.  At  that  hour,  Reynal  and  Ray- 
mond walked  across  the  area  of  the  village,  to  the  admi- 
ration of  the  inhabitants,  carrying  the  two  kettles  of  dog 
meat  slung  on  a  pole  between  them.  These  they  placed 
in  the  centre  of  the  lodge,  and  then  went  back  for  the 
bread  and  the  tea.  Meanwhile  I  had  put  on  a  pair  of 
brilliant  moccasins,  and  substituted  for  my  old  buck-skin 
frock  a  coat  which  I  had  brought  with  me  in  view  of  such 
public  occasions.  I  also  made  careful  use  of  the  razor, 
an  operation  which  no  man  will  neglect  who  desires  to 
gain  the  good  opinion  of  Indians.  Thus  attired,  I  seated 
myself  between  Reynal  and  Raymond  at  the  head  of  the 
lodge.  Only  a  few  minutes  elapsed  before  all  the  guests 
had  come  in  and  were  seated  on  the  ground,  wedged  to- 
gether in  a  close  circle.  Each  brought  with  him  a  wooden 
bowl  to  hold  his  share  of  the  repast.  When  all  were 
assembled,  two  of  the  officials,  called  "  soldiers  "  by  the 
white  men,  came  forward  with  ladles  made  of  the  horn 
of  the  Rocky  Mountain  sheep,  and  began  to  distribute  the 
feast,  assigning  a  double  share  to  the  old  men  and  chiefs. 


THE  OGILLALLAH  VILLAGE.        197 

The  dog  vanished  with  astonishing  celerity,  and  each 
guest  turned  his  dish  bottom  upward  to  show  that  all  was 
gone.  Then  the  bread  was  distributed  in  its  turn,  and 
finally  the  tea.  As  the  "  soldiers  "  poured  it  out  into  the 
same  wooden  bowls  that  had  served  for  the  substantial 
part  of  the  meal,  I  thought  it  had  a  particularly  curious 
and  uninviting  color. 

"  Oh,"  said  Reynal,  "  there  was  not  tea  enough,  so  I 
stirred  some  soot  in  the  kettle,  to  make  it  look  strong." 

Fortunately  an  Indian's  palate  is  not  very  discriminat- 
ing. The  tea  was  well  sweetened,  and  that  was  all  they 
cared  for. 

Now,  the  feast  being  over,  the  time  for  speech-making 
was  come.  The  Big  Crow  produced  a  flat  piece  of  wood 
on  which  he  cut  up  tobacco  and  shongsasha^  and  mixed 
them  in  due  proportions.  The  pipes  were  filled  and 
passed  from  hand  to  hand  around  the  company.  Then 
I  began  my  speech,  each  sentence  being  interpreted  by 
Reynal  as  I  went  on,  and  echoed  by  the  whole  audience 
with  the  usual  exclamations  of  assent  and  approval.  As 
nearly  as  I  can  recollect,  it  was  as  follows :  — 

"  I  had  come,"  I  told  them,  "  from  a  country  so  far 
distant,  that  at  the  rate  they  travel,  they  could  not  reach 
it  in  a  year." 

"How!  how!" 

"  There  the  Meneaska  were  more  numerous  than  the 
blades  of  grass  on  the  prairie.  The  squaws  were  far 
more  beautiful  than  any  they  had  ever  seen,  and  all  the 
men  were  brave  warriors." 

"Howl  how!  how!" 

I  was  assailed  by  twinges  of  conscience  as  I  uttered 
these  last  words.  But  I  recovered  myself  and  began 
again. 

"  While  I  was  living  in  the  Meneaska  lodges,  I  hacj 


198  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

heard  of  the  Ogillallah,  how  great  and  brave  a  nation 
they  were,  how  they  loved  the  whites,  and  how  well  they 
could  hunt  the  buffalo  and  strike  their  enemies.  I  re- 
solved to  come  and  see  if  all  that  I  heard  was  true." 

"How!  how!  how!  how!" 

"  As  I  had  come  on  horseback  through  the  mountains, 
I  had  been  able  to  bring  them  only  a  very  few  presents." 

"How!" 

"But  I  had  enough  tobacco  to  give  them  all  a  small 
piece.  They  might  smoke  it  and  see  how  much  better  it 
was  than  the  tobacco  which  they  got  from  the  traders." 

"How!  how!  how!" 

"  I  had  plenty  of  powder,  lead,  knives,  and  tobacco  at 
Fort  Laramie.  These  I  was  anxious  to  give  them,  and 
if  any  of  them  should  come  to  the  fort  before  I  went 
away,  I  would  make  them  handsome  presents." 

"  How !  how !  how  !  how ! " 

Raymond  then  cut  up  and  distributed  among  them  two 
or  three  pounds  of  tobacco,  and  old  Mene-Seela  began  to 
make  a  reply.  It  was  long,  but  the  following  was  the 
pith  of  it. 

"  He  had  always  loved  the  whites.  They  were  the 
wisest  people  on  earth.  He  believed  they  could  do  any 
thing,  and  he  was  always  glad  when  any  of  them  came  to 
live  in  the  Ogillallah  lodges.  It  was  true  I  had  not 
made  them  many  presents,  but  the  reason  of  it  was  plain. 
It  was  clear  that  I  liked  them,  or  I  never  should  have 
come  so  far  to  find  their  village." 

Several  other  speeches  of  similar  import  followed,  and 
then  this  more  serious  matter  being  disposed  of,  there  was 
an  interval  of  smoking,  laughing,  and  conversation.  Old 
Mene-Seela  suddenly  interrupted  it  with  a  loud  voice :  — 

"  Now  is  a  good  time,"  he  said,  "  when  all  the  old  men 
and  chiefs  are  here  together,  to  decide  what  the  people 


THE    OGILLALLAH    VILLAGE.  199 

shall  do.  We  came  over  the  mountains  to  make  our 
lodges  for  next  year.  Our  old  ones  are  good  for  nothing, 
they  are  rotten  and  worn  out.  But  we  have  been  disap- 
pointed. We  have  killed  buffalo-bulls  enough,  but  we 
have  found  no  herds  of  cows,  and  the  skins  of  bulls  are 
too  thick  and  heavy  for  our  squaws  to  make  lodges  of. 
There  must  be  plenty  of  cows  about  the  Medicine  Bow 
Mountain.  We  ought  to  go  there.  To  be  sure  it  is  far- 
ther westward  than  we  have  ever  been  before,  and  perhaps 
the  Snakes  will  attack  us,  for  those  hunting-grounds 
belong  to  them.  But  we  must  have  new  lodges  at  any 
rate ;  our  old  ones  will  not  serve  for  another  year.  We 
ought  not  to  be  afraid  of  the  Snakes.  Our  warriors  are 
brave,  and  they  are  all  ready  for  war.  Besides,  we  have 
three  white  men  with  their  rifles  to  help  us." 

This  speech  produced  a  good  deal  of  debate.  As  Rey- 
nal  did  not  interpret  what  was  said,  I  could  only  judge 
of  the  meaning  by  the  features  and  gestures  of  the 
speakers.  At  the  end  of  it  however  the  greater  number 
seemed  to  have  fallen  in  with  Mene-Seela's  opinion.  A 
short  silence  followed,  and  then  the  old  man  struck  up  a 
discordant  chant,  which  I  was  told  was  a  song  of  thanks 
for  the  entertainment  I  had  given  them. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  let  us  go  and  give  the  white  men  a 
chance  to  breathe." 

So  the  company  all  dispersed  into  the  open  air,  and  for 
some  time  the  old  chief  was  walking  round  the  village, 
singing  his  song  in  praise  of  the  feast,  after  the  custom 
of  the  nation. 

At  last  the  day  drew  to  a  close,  and  as  the  sun  went 
down  the  horses  came  trooping  from  the  surrounding 
plains  to  be  picketed  before  the  dwellings  of  their  respec- 
tive masters.  Soon  within  the  great  circle  of  lodges  ap- 
peared another  concentric  circle  of  restless  horses ;  and 


200  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

here  and  there  fires  glowed  and  flickered  amid  the  gloom, 
on  the  dusky  figures  around  them.  I  went  over  and  sat 
by  the  lodge  of  Reynal.  The  Eagle-Feather,  who  was  a 
son  of  Mene-Seela,  and  brother  of  my  host  the  Big  Crow, 
was  seated  there  already,  and  I  asked  him  if  the  village 
would  move  in  the  morning.  He  shook  his  head,  and 
said  that  nobody  could  tell,  for  since  old  Mahto-Tatonka 
had  died,  the  people  had  been  like  children  that  did  not 
know  their  own  minds.  They  were  no  better  than  a  body 
without  a  head.  So  I,  as  well  as  the  Indians  themselves, 
fell  asleep  that  night  without  knowing  whether  we  should 
set  out  in  the  morning  towards  the  country  of  the  Snakes. 
At  daybreak  however,  as  I  was  coming  up  from  the 
river  after  my  morning's  ablutions,  I  saw  that  a  move- 
ment was  contemplated.  Some  of  the  lodges  were  re- 
duced to  nothing  but  bare  skeletons  of  poles ;  the  leather 
covering  of  others  was  flapping  in  the  wind  as  the  squaws 
pulled  it  off.  One  or  two  chiefs  of  note  had  resolved,  it 
seemed,  on  moving;  and  so  having  set  their  squaws 
at  work,  the  example  was  followed  by  the  rest  of  the 
village.  One  by  one  the  lodges  were  sinking  down  in 
rapid  succession,  and  where  the  great  circle  of  the  village 
had  been  only  a  few  moments  before,  nothing  now  re- 
mained but  a  ring  of  horses  and  Indians,  crowded  in 
confusion  together.  The  ruins  of  the  lodges  were  spread 
over  the  ground,  together  with  kettles,  stone  mallets, 
great  ladles  of  horn,  buffalo-robes,  and  cases  of  painted 
hide,  filled  with  dried  meat.  Squaws  bustled  about  in 
busy  preparation,  the  old  hags  screaming  to  one  another 
at  the  stretch  of  their  leathern  lungs.  The  shaggy  horses 
were  patiently  standing  while  the  lodge-poles  were  lashed 
to  their  sides,  and  the  baggage  piled  upon  their  backs. 
The  dogs,  with  tongues  lolling  out,  lay  lazily  panting,  and 
waiting  for  the  time  of  departure.  Each  warrior  sat  on 


THE   OGILLALLAH   VILLAGE.  201 

the  ground  by  the  decaying  embers  of  his  fire,  unmoved 
amid  the  confusion,  holding  in  his  hand  the  long  trail- 
rope  of  his  horse. 

As  their  preparations  were  completed,  each  family 
moved  off  the  ground.  The  crowd  was  rapidly  melting 
away.  I  could  see  them  crossing  the  river,  and  passing 
in  quick  succession  along  the  profile  of  the  hill  on  the 
farther  side.  When  all  were  gone,  I  mounted  and  set  out 
after  them,  followed  by  Raymond,  and,  as  we  gained  the 
summit,  the  whole  village  came  in  view  at  once,  strag- 
gling away  for  a  mile  or  more  over  the  barren  plains  before 
us.  Everywhere  glittered  the  iron  points  of  lances.  The 
sun  never  shone  upon  a  more  strange  array.  Here  were 
the  heavy-laden  pack-horses,  some  wretched  old  woman 
leading  them,  and  two  or  three  children  clinging  to  their 
backs.  Here  were  mules  or  ponies  covered  from  head  to 
tail  with  gaudy  trappings,  and  mounted  by  some  gay 
young  squaw,  grinning  bashfulness  and  pleasure  as  the 
Meneaska  looked  at  her.  Boys  with  miniature  bows  and 
arrows  wandered  over  the  plains,  little  naked  children  ran 
along  on  foot,  and  numberless  dogs  scampered  among  the 
feet  of  the  horses.  The  young  braves,  gaudy  with  paint 
and  feathers,  rode  in  groups  among  the  crowd,  often 
galloping  two  or  three  at  once  along  the  line,  to  try  the 
speed  of  their  horses.  Here  and  there  you  might  see 
a  rank  of  sturdy  pedestrians  stalking  along  in  their  white 
buffalo-robes.  These  were  the  dignitaries  of  the  village, 
the  old  men  and  warriors,  to  whose  age  and  experience 
that  wandering  democracy  yielded  a  silent  deference. 
With  the  rough  prairie  and  the  broken  hills  for  its  back- 
ground, the  restless  scene  was  striking  and  picturesque 
beyond  description.  Days  and  weeks  made  me  familiar 
with  it,  but  never  impaired  its  effect  upon  my  fancy. 

As  we  moved  on,  the  broken  column  grew  yet  moro 


202  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

scattered  and  disorderly,  until,  as  we  approached  the  foot 
of  a  hill,  I  saw  the  old  men  before  mentioned  seating 
themselves  in  a  line  upon  the  ground,  in  advance  of  the 
whole.  They  lighted  a  pipe  and  sat  smoking,  laughing, 
and  telling  stories,  while  the  people,  stopping  as  they 
successively  came  up,  were  soon  gathered  in  a  crowd 
behind  them.  Then  the  old  men  rose,  drew  their  buffalo- 
robes  over  their  shoulders,  and  strode  on  as  before. 
Gaining  the  top  of  the  hill,  we  found  a  steep  declivity 
before  us.  There  was  not  a  minute's  pause.  The  whole 
descended  in  a  mass,  amid  dust  and  confusion.  The 
horses  braced  their  feet  as  they  slid  down,  women  and  chil- 
dren screamed,  dogs  yelped  as  they  were  trodden  upon, 
while  stones  and  earth  went  rolling  to  the  bottom.  In 
a  few  moments  I  could  see  the  village  from  the  summit, 
spreading  again  far  and  wide  o^pr  the  plain  below. 

At  our  encampment  that  afternoon  I  was  attacked 
anew  by  my  old  disorder.  In  half  an  hour  the  strength 
that  I  had  been  gaming  for  a  week  past  had  vanished 
again,  and  I  became  like  a  man  in  a  dream.  But  at 
sunset  I  lay  down  in  the  Big  Crow's  lodge  and  slept, 
totally  unconscious  till  the  morning.  The  first  thing 
that  awakened  me  was  a  hoarse  flapping  over  my  head, 
and  a  sudden  light  that  poured  in  upon  me.  The  camp 
was  breaking  up,  and  the  squaws  were  moving  the  cover- 
ing from  the  lodge.  I  arose  and  shook  off  my  blanket 
with  the  feeling  of  perfect  health ;  but  scarcely  had  I 
gained  my  feet  when  a  sense  of  my  helpless  condition 
was  once  more  forced  upon  me,  and  I  found  myself 
scarcely  able  to  stand.  Raymond  had  brought  up  Paul- 
ine and  the  mule,  and  I  stooped  to  raise  my  saddle  from 
the  ground.  My  strength  was  unequal  to  the  task.  "  You 
must  saddle  her,"  said  I  to  Raymond,  as  I  sat  down 
again  on  a  pile  of  buffalo-robes.  He  did  so,  and  with 


THE    OGILLALLAH   VILLAGE.  203 

a  painful  effort  I  mounted.  As  we  were  passing  over 
a  great  plain,  surrounded  by  long  broken  ridges,  I 
rode  slowly  in  advance  of  the  Indians  with  thoughts 
that  wandered  far  from  the  time  and  the  place.  Sud- 
denly the  sky  darkened,  and  thunder  began  to  mutter. 
Clouds  were  rising  over  the  hills,  as  dark  as  the  first 
forebodings  of  an  approaching  calamity ;  and  in  a  mo- 
ment all  around  was  wrapped  in  shadow.  I  looked 
behind.  The  Indians  had  stopped  to  prepare  for  the 
approaching  storm,  and  the  dense  mass  of  savages 
stretched  far  to  the  right  and  left.  Since  the  first  at- 
tack of  my  disorder  the  effects  of  rain  upon  me  had 
usually  been  injurious  in  the  extreme.  I  had  no  strength 
to  spare,  having  at  that  moment  scarcely  enough  to  keep 
my  seat  on  horseback.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  it  pressed 
upon  me  as  a  strong  probability  that  I  might  never  leave 
those  deserts.  "  Well,"  thought  I  to  myself,  "  the  prairie 
makes  quick  and  sharp  work.  Better  to  die  here,  in  the 
saddle  to  the  last,  than  to  stifle  in  the  hot  air  of  a  sick 
chamber ;  and  a  thousand  times  better  than  to  drag  out 
life,  as  many  have  done,  in  the  helpless  inaction  of  linger- 
ing disease."  So,  drawing  the  buffalo-robe  on  which  I 
sat,  over  my  head,  I  waited  till  the  storm  should  come. 
It  broke  at  last  with  a  sudden  burst  of  fury,  and  passing 
away  as  rapidly  as  it  came,  left  the  sky  clear  again.  My 
reflections  served  me  no  other  purpose  than  to  look  back 
upon  as  a  piece  of  curious  experience ;  for  the  rain  did 
not  produce  the  ill  effects  that  I  had  expected.  We  en- 
camped within  an  hour.  Having  no  change  of  clothes,  I 
contrived  to  borrow  a  curious  kind  of  substitute  from 
Reynal ;  and  this  done,  I  went  home,  that  is,  to  the  Big 
Crow's  lodge,  to  make  the  entire  transfer  that  was  neces- 
sary. Half  a  dozen  squaws  were  in  the  lodge,  and  one  of 
them  taking  my  arm  held  it  against  her  own,  while  a  gen- 


204  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

eral  laugh  and  scream  of  admiration  was  raised  at  the 
contrast  in  the  color  of  the  skin. 

Our  encampment  that  afternoon  was  not  far  from  a  spur 
of  the  Black  Hills,  whose  ridges,  bristling  with  fir-trees, 
rose  from  the  plains  a  mile  or  two  on  our  right.  That 
they  might  move  more  rapidly  towards  their  proposed 
hunting-grounds,  the  Indians  determined  to  leave  at  this 
place  their  stock  of  dried  meat  and  other  superfluous 
articles.  Some  left  even  their  lodges,  and  contented 
themselves  with  carrying  a  few  hides  to  make  a  shelter 
from  the  sun  and  rain.  Half  the  inhabitants  set  out 
in  the  afternoon,  with  loaded  pack-horses,  towards  the 
mountains.  Here  they  suspended  the  dried  meat  upon 
trees,  where  the  wolves  and  grizzly  bears  could  not  get 
at  it.  All  returned  at  evening.  Some  of  the  young  men 
declared  that  they  had  heard  the  reports  of  guns  among 
the  mountains  to  the  eastward,  and  many  surmises  were 
thrown  out  as  to  the  origin  of  these  sounds.  For  my 
part,  I  was  in  hopes  that  Shaw  and  Henry  Chatillon  were 
coming  to  join  us.  I  little  suspected  that  at  that  very 
moment  my  unlucky  comrade  was  lying  on  a  buffalo-robe 
at  Fort  Laramie,  fevered  with  ivy  poison,  and  solacing 
his  woes  with  tobacco  and  Shakspeare. 

As  we  moved  over  the  plains  on  the  next  morning, 
several  young  men  rode  about  the  country  as  scouts ;  and 
at  length  we  began  to  see  them  occasionally  on  the  tops 
>  of  the  hills,  shaking  their  robes  as  a  signal  that  they  saw 
buffalo.  Soon  after,  some  bulls  came  in  sight.  Horse- 
men darted  away  in  pursuit,  and  we  could  see  from  the 
distance  that  one  or  two  of  the  buffalo  were  killed. 
Raymond  suddenly  became  inspired. 

*•'  This  is  the  countiy  for  me  ! "  he  said ;  "  if  I  could 
only  carry  the  buffalo  that  are  killed  here  every  month 
down  to  St.  Louis,  I'd  make  my  fortune  in  one  winter. 


THE    OGILLALLAH    VILLAGE.  205 

I'd  grow  as  rich  as  old  Papin,  or  Mackenzie  either.  I 
call  this  the  poor  man's  market.  When  I'm  hungry,  I've 
only  got  to  take  my  rifle  and  go  out  and  get  better  meat 
than  the  rich  folks  down  below  can  get,  with  all  their 
money.  You  won't  catch  me  living  in  St.  Louis  another 
winter." 

"No,"  said  Reynal,  "you  had  better  say  that,  after 
you  and  your  Spanish  woman  almost  starved  to  death 
there.  What  a  fool  you  were  ever  to  take  her  to  the 
settlements ! " 

"  Your  Spanish  woman  ?  "  said  I ;  "  I  never  heard  of 
her  before.  Are  you  married  to  her  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Raymond,  "  the  priests  don't  marry 
their  women,  and  why  should  I  marry  mine  ?  " 

This  honorable  mention  of  the  Mexican  clergy  intro- 
duced the  subject  of  religion,  and  I  found  that  my  two 
associates,  in  common  with  other  white  men  in  that  coun- 
try, were  as  indifferent  to  their  future  welfare  as  men 
whose  lives  are  in  constant  peril  are  apt  to  be.  Raymond 
had  never  heard  of  the  Pope.  A  certain  bishop,  who 
lived  at  Taos  or  at  Santa  F£,  embodied  his  loftiest  idea  of 
an  ecclesiastical  dignitary.  Reynal  observed  that  a  priest 
had  been  at  Fort  Laramie  two  years  ago,  on  his  way  to 
the  Nez  Perce*  mission,  and  that  he  had  confessed  all 
the  men  there,  and  given  them  absolution.  "  I  got  a 
good  clearing  out  myself,  that  time,"  said  Reynal,  "and 
I  reckon  that  will  do  for  me  till  I  go  down  to  the  settle- 
ments again." 

Here  he  interrupted  himself  with  an  oath,  and  ex- 
claimed :  "  Look  !  look  I  The  '  Panther  '  is  running  an 
antelope ! " 

The  Panther,  on  his  black-and-white  horse,  one  of  the 
best  in  the  village,  came  at  full  speed  over  the  hill  in  hot 
pursuit  of  an  antelope,  that  darted  away  like  lightning 


206  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

before  him.  The  attempt  was  made  in  mere  sport  and 
bravado,  for  very  few  are  the  horses  that  can  for  a  mo- 
ment compete  in  swiftness  with  this  little  animal.  The 
antelope  ran  down  the  hill  towards  the  main  body  of  the 
Indians,  who  were  moving  over  the  plain  below.  Sharp 
yells  were  given,  and  horsemen  galloped  out  to  intercept 
his  flight.  At  this  he  turned  sharply  to  the  left,  and 
scoured  away  with  such  speed  that  he  distanced  all  his 
pursuers,  even  the  vaunted  horse  of  The  Panther  himself. 
A  few  moments  after,  we  witnessed  a  more  serious  sport. 
A  shaggy  buffalo-bull  bounded  out  from  a  neighboring 
hollow,  and  close  behind  him  came  a  slender  Indian  boy, 
riding  without  stirrups  or  saddle,  and  lashing  his  eager 
little  horse  to  full  speed.  Yard  after  yard  he  drew  closer 
to  his  gigantic  victim,  though  the  bull,  with  his  short  tail 
erect  and  his  tongue  lolling  out  a  foot  from  his  foaming 
jaws,  was  straining  his  unwieldy  strength  to  the  utmost. 
A  moment  more,  and  the  boy  was  close  alongside.  It 
was  our  friend  the  Hail-Storm.  He  dropped  the  rein  on 
his  horse's  neck,  and  jerked  an  arrow  like  lightning  from 
the  quiver  at  his  shoulder. 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  Reynal,  "  that  in  a  year's  time  that 
boy  will  match  the  best  hunter  in  the  village.  There,  he 
has  given  it  to  him!  —  and  there  goes  another!  You 
feel  well,  now,  old  bull,  don't  you,  with  two  arrows  stuck 
in  your  lights !  There,  he  has  given  him  another  I  Hear 
how  the  Hail-Storm  yells  when  he  shoots !  Yes,  jump  at 
him ;  try  it  again,  old  fellow !  You  may  jump  all  day 
before  you  get  your  horns  into  that  pony !  " 

The  bull  sprang  again  and  again  at  his  assailant,  but 
the  horse  kept  dodging  with  wonderful  celerity.  At 
length  the  bull  followed  up  his  attack  with  a  furious  rush, 
and  the  Hail-Storm  was  put  to  flight,  the  shaggy  monster 
following  close  behind.  The  boy  clung  in  his  seat  like 


THE  OGILLALLAH  VILLAGE.        207 

a  leech,  and  secure  in  the  speed  of  his  little  pony,  looked 
round  towards  us  and  laughed.  In  a  moment  he  was 
again  alongside  the  bull  who  was  now  driven  to  despera- 
tion. His  eyeballs  glared  through  his  tangled  mane,  and 
the  blood  flew  from  his  mouth  and  nostrils.  Thus,  still 
battling  with  each  other,  the  two  enemies  disappeared 
over  the  hill. 

Many  of  the  Indians  rode  at  full  gallop  towards  the 
spot.  We  followed  at  a  more  moderate  pace,  and  soon 
saw  the  bull  lying  dead  on  the  side  of  the  hill.  The 
Indians  were  gathered  around  him,  and  several  knives 
were  already  at  work.  These  little  instruments  were 
plied  with  such  wonderful  address,  that  the  twisted  sinews 
were  cut  apart,  the  ponderous  bones  fell  asunder  as  if  by 
magic,  and  in  a  moment  the  vast  carcass  was  reduced  to 
a  heap  of  bloody  ruins.  The  surrounding  group  of 
savages  offered  no  very  attractive  spectacle  to  a  civilized 
eye.  Some  were  cracking  the  huge  thigh-bones  and  de- 
vouring the  marrow  within ;  others  were  cutting  away 
pieces  of  the  liver,  and  other  approved  morsels,  and  swal- 
lowing them  on  the  spot  with  the  appetite  of  wolves. 
The  faces  of  most  of  them,  besmeared  with  blood  from 
ear  to  ear,  looked  grim  and  horrible  enough.  My  friend 
the  White  Shield  proffered  me  a  marrowbone,  so  skilfully 
laid  open,  that  all  the  rich  substance  within  was  exposed 
to  view  at  once.  Another  Indian  held  out  a  large  piece 
of  the  delicate  lining  of  the  paunch ;  but  these  courteous 
offerings  I  begged  leave  to  decline.  I  noticed  one  little 
boy  who  was  very  busy  with  his  knife  about  the  jaws  and 
throat  of  the  buffalo,  from  which  he  extracted  some 
morsel  of  peculiar  delicacy.  It  is  but  fair  to  say,  that 
only  certain  parts  of  the  animal  are  considered  eligible 
in  these  extempore  banquets. 

We   encamped  that  night,  and   marched   westward 


208  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

through  the  greater  part  of  the  following  day.  On  the 
next  morning  we  again  resumed  our  journey.  It  was  the 
seventeenth  of  July,  unless  my  note-book  misleads  me. 
At  noon  we  stopped  by  some  pools  of  rain-water,  and  in 
the  afternoon  again  set  forward.  This  double  movement 
was  contrary  to  the  usual  practice  of  the  Indians,  but  all 
were  very  anxious  to  reach  the  hunting-ground,  kill  the 
necessary  number  of  buffalo,  and  retreat  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble from  the  dangerous  neighborhood.  I  pass  by  for  the 
present  some  curious  incidents  that  occurred  during  these 
marches  and  encampments.  Late  in  the  afternoon  of 
the  last-mentioned  day  we  came  upon  the  banks  of  a  little 
sandy  stream,  of  which  the  Indians  could  not  tell  the 
name ;  for  they  were  very  ill  acquainted  with  that  part 
of  the  country.  So  parched  and  arid  were  the  .prairies 
around,  that  they  could  not  supply  grass  enough  for  the 
horses  to  feed  upon,  and  we  were  compelled  to  move  far- 
ther and  farther  up  the  stream  in  search  of  ground  for 
encampment.  The  country  was  much  wilder  than  before. 
The  plains  were  gashed  with  ravines  and  broken  into 
hollows  and  steep  declivities,  which  flanked  our  course, 
as,  in  long  scattered  array,  the  Indians  advanced  up  the 
side  of  the  stream.  Mene-Seela  consulted  an  extraordi- 
nary oracle  to  instruct  him  where  the  buffalo  were  to  be 
found.  When  he  with  the  other  chiefs  sat  down  on  the 
grass  to  smoke  and  converse,  as  they  often  did  during  the 
march,  the  old  man  picked  up  one  of  those  enormous 
black  and  green  crickets,  which  the  Dahcotah  call  by  a 
name  that  signifies  "  They  who  point  out  the  buffalo." 
The  "  Root-Diggers,"  a  wretched  tribe  beyond  the  moun- 
tains, turn  them  to  good  account  by  making  them  into  a 
sort  of  soup,  pronounced  by  certain  unscrupulous  trap- 
pers to  be  extremely  rich.  Holding  the  bloated  insect 
respectfully  between  his  fingers  and  thumb,  the  old  Indian 


THE  OGILLALLAH  VILLAGE.        209 

looked  attentively  at  him  and  inquired,  "  Tell  me,  my 
father,  where  must  we  go  to-morrow  to  find  the  buffalo  ?  " 
The  cricket  twisted  about  his  long  horns  in  evident  em- 
barrassment. At  last  he  pointed,  or  seemed  to  point, 
them  westward.  Mene-Seela,  dropping  him  gently  on  the 
grass,  laughed  with  great  glee,  and  said  that  if  we  went 
that  way  in  the  morning  we  should  be  sure  to  kill  plenty 
of  game. 

Towards  evening  we  came  upon  a  fresh  green  meadow, 
traversed  by  the  stream,  and  deep-set  among  tall  sterile 
bluffs.  The  Indians  descended  its  steep  bank ;  and  as  I 
was  at  the  rear,  I  was  one  of  the  last  to  reach  this  point. 
Lances  were  glittering,  feathers  fluttering,  and  the  water 
below  me  was  crowded  with  men  and  horses  passing 
through,  while  the  meadow  beyond  swarmed  with  the 
restless  crowd  of  Indians.  The  sun  was  just  setting, 
and  poured  its  softened  light  upon  them  through  an 
opening  in  the  hills. 

I  remarked  to  Reynal,  that  at  last  we  had  found  a  good 
'camping-ground. 

"  Oh,  it's  very  good,"  replied  he,  ironically,  "  especially 
if  there  is  a  Snake  war-party  about,  and  they  take  it  into 
their  heads  to  shoot  down  at  us  from  the  top  of  these 
hills.  It's  no  plan  of  mine,  'camping  in  such  a  hole  as 
this." 

The  Indians  also  seemed  anxious.  High  up  on  the 
top  of  the  tallest  bluff,  conspicuous  in  the  bright  even- 
ing sunlight,  sat  a  naked  warrior  on  horseback,  look- 
ing around  over  the  neighboring  country ;  and  Raymond 
told  me  that  many  of  the  young  men  had  gone  out  in 
different  directions  as  scouts. 

The  shadows  had  reached  to  the  very  summit  of  the 
bluffs  before  the  lodges  were  erected,  and  the  village  re- 
duced again  to  quiet  and  order.  A  cry  was  suddenly 

14 


210  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

raised,  and  men,  women,  and  children  came  running  out 
with  animated  faces,  and  looked  eagerly  through  the 
opening  in  the  hills  by  which  the  stream  entered  from 
the  westward.  I  could  discern  afar  off  some  dark,  heavy 
masses,  passing  over  the  sides  of  a  low  hill.  They  dis- 
appeared, and  then  others  followed.  These  were  bands 
of  buffalo-cows.  The  hunting-ground  was  reached  at 
last,  and  every  thing  promised  well  for  the  morrow's 
chase.  Being  fatigued  and  exhausted,  I  lay  down  in 
Kongra-Tonga's  lodge,  when  Raymond  thrust  in  his  head, 
and  called  upon  me  to  come  and  see  some  sport.  A 
number  of  Indians  were  gathered,  laughing,  along  the 
line  of  lodges  on  the  western  side  of  the  village,  and  at 
some  distance,  I  could  plainly  see  in  the  twilight  two 
huge  black  monsters  stalking,  heavily  and  solemnly,  di- 
rectly towards  us.  They  were  buffalo-bulls.  The  wind 
blew  from  them  to  the  village,  and  such  was  their  blind- 
ness and  stupidity,  that  they  were  advancing  upon  the 
enemy  without  the  least  consciousness  of  his  presence. 
Raymond  told  me  that  two  young  men  had  hidden  them- 
selves with  guns  in  a  ravine  about  twenty  yards  in  front 
of  us.  The  two  bulls  walked  slowly  on,  heavily  swing- 
ing from  side  to  side  in  their  peculiar  gait  of  stupid 
dignity.  They  approached  within  four  or  five  rods  of 
the  ravine  where  the  Indians  lay  in  ambush.  Here  at 
last  they  seemed  conscious  that  something  was  wrong, 
for  they  both  stopped  and  stood  perfectly  still,  without 
looking  either  to  the  right  or  to  the  left.  Nothing  of 
them  was  to  be  seen  but  two  black  masses  of  shaggy 
mane,  with  horns,  eyes,  and  nose  in  the  centre,  and  a 
part  of  hoofs  visible  at  the  bottom.  At  last  the  more  in- 
telligent of  them  seemed  to  have  concluded  that  it  was 
time  to  retire.  Very  slowly,  and  with  an  air  of  the 
gravest  and  most  majestic  deliberation,  he  began  to  turn 


THE   OGILLALLAH   TILLAGE.  211 

round,  as  if  he  were  revolving  on  a  pivot.  Little  by  little 
his  ugly  brown  side  was  exposed  to  view.  A  white  smoke 
sprang  out,  as  it  were  from  the  ground ;  a  sharp  report 
came  with  it.  The  old  bull  gave  a  very  undignified 
jump,  and  galloped  off.  At  this  his  comrade  wheeled 
about  with  considerable  expedition.  The  other  Indian 
shot  at  him  from  the  ravine,  and  then  both  the  bulls  ran 
away  at  full  speed,  while  half  the  juvenile  population  of 
the  village  raised  a  yell  and  ran  after  them.  The  first 
bull  soon  stopped,  and  while  the  crowd  stood  looking  at 
him  at  a  respectful  distance,  he  reeled  and  rolled  over  on 
his  side.  The  other,  wounded  in  a  less  vital  part,  gal- 
loped away  to  the  hills  and  escaped. 

In  half  an  hour  it  was  totally  dark.  I  lay  down  to 
sleep,  and  ill  as  I  was,  there  was  something  very  ani- 
mating in  the  prospect  of  the  general  hunt  that  was  to 
take  place  on  the  morrow. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE  HUNTING   CAMP. 

LONG  before  daybreak  the  Indians  broke  up  their  camp. 
The  women  of  Mene-Seela's  lodge  were  as  usual 
among  the  first  that  were  ready  for  departure,  and  I 
found  the  old  man  himself  sitting  by  the  embers  of  the 
decayed  fire,  over  which  he  was  warming  his  withered 
fingers,  as  the  morning  was  very  chill  and  damp.  The 
preparations  for  moving  were  even  more  confused  and  dis- 
orderly than  usual.  While  some  families  were  leaving  the 
ground  the  lodges  of  others  were  still  standing  untouched. 
At  this  old  Mene-Seela  grew  impatient,  and  walking  out  to 
the  middle  of  the  village,  he  stood  with  his  robe  wrapped 
close  around  him,  and  harangued  the  people  in  a  loud, 
sharp  voice.  Now,  he  said,  when  they  were  on  an 
enemy's  hunting-grounds,  was  not  the  time  to  behave 
like  children ;  they  ought  to  be  more  active  and  united 
than"  ever.  His  speech  had  some  effect.  The  delinquents 
took  down  their  lodges  and  loaded  their  pack-horses ; 
and  when  the  sun  rose,  the  last  of  the  men,  women,  and 
children  had  left  the  deserted  camp. 

This  movement  was  made  merely  for  the  purpose  of 
finding  a  better  and  safer  position.  So  we  advanced  only 
three  or  four  miles  up  the  little  stream,  when  each  family 
assumed  its  relative  place  in  the  great  ring  of  the  village, 
and  the  squaws  set  actively  at  work  in  preparing  the 
camp.  But  not  a  single  warrior  dismounted  from  his 


THE   HUNTING   CAMP.  213 

horse.  All  the  men  that  morning  were  mounted  on 
inferior  animals,  leading  their  best  horses  by  a  cord,  or 
confiding  them  to  the  care  of  boys.  In  small  parties 
they  began  to  leave  the  ground  and  ride  rapidly  away 
over  the  plains  to  the  westward.  I  had  taken  no  food, 
and  not  being  at  all  ambitious  of  farther  abstinence,  I 
went  into  my  host's  lodge,  which  his  squaws  had  set  up 
with  wonderful  despatch,  and  sat  down  in  the  centre,  as 
a  gentle  hint  that  I  was  hungry.  A  wooden  bowl  was 
soon  set  before  me,  filled  with  the  nutritious  preparation 
of  dried  meat,  called  pemmican  by  the  northern  voyagers, 
and  wasna  by  the  Dahcotah.  Taking  a  handful  to  break 
my  fast  upon,  I  left  the  lodge  just  in  time  to  see  the  last 
band  of  hunters  disappear  over  the  ridge  of  the  neighbor- 
ing hill.  I  mounted  Pauline  and  galloped  in  pursuit,  rid- 
ing rather  by  the  balance  than  by  any  muscular  strength 
that  remained  to  me.  From  the  top  of  the  hill  I  could 
overlook  a  wide  extent  of  desolate  prairie,  over  which, 
far  and  near,  little  parties  of  naked  horsemen  were  rapidly 
passing.  I  soon  came  up  to  the  nearest,  and  we  had  not 
ridden  a  mile  before  all  were  united  into  one  large  and 
compact  body.  All  was  haste  and  eagerness.  Each 
hunter  whipped  on  his  horse,  as  if  anxious  to  be  the  first 
to  reach  the  game.  In  such  movements  among  the  In- 
dians this  is  always  more  or  less  the  case ;  but  it  was 
especially  so  in  the  present  instance,  because  the  head 
chief  of  the  village  was  absent,  and  there  were  but  few 
"soldiers,"  a  sort  of  Indian  police,  who  among  their 
other  functions  usually  assume  the  direction  of  a  buffalo 
hunt.  No  man  turned  to  the  right  hand  or  to  the  left. 
We  rode  at  a  swift  canter  straight  forward,  up  hill  and 
down  hill,  and  through  the  stiff,  obstinate  growth  of  the 
endless  wild-sage  bushes.  For  an  hour  and  a  half  the 
same  red  shoulders,  the  same  long  black  hair  rose  and 


214  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

fell  with  the  motion  of  the  horses  before  me.  Very  little 
was  said,  though  once  I  observed  an  old  man  severely 
reproving  Raymond  for  having  left  his  rifle  behind  him, 
when  there  was  some  probability  of  encountering  an 
enemy  before  the  day  was  over.  As  we  galloped  across 
a  plain  thickly  set  with  sage  bushes,  the  foremost  riders 
vanished  suddenly  from  sight,  as  if  diving  into  the  earth. 
The  arid  soil  was  cracked  into  a  deep  ravine.  Down 
we  all  went  in  succession  and  galloped  in  a  line  along 
the  bottom,  until  we  found  a  point  where,  one  by  one, 
the  horses  could  scramble  out.  Soon  after,  we  came 
upon  a  wide  shallow  stream,  and  as  we  rode  swiftly  over 
the  hard  sand-beds  and  through  the  thin  sheets  of  rip- 
pling water,  many  of  the  savage  horsemen  threw  them- 
selves to  the  ground,  knelt  on  the  sand,  snatched  a  hasty 
draught,  and  leaping  back  again  to  their  seats,  galloped 
on  as  before. 

Meanwhile  scouts  kept  in  advance  of  the  party  ;  and 
now  we  began  to  see  them  on  the  ridges  of  the  hills,  wav- 
ing their  robes  in  token  that  buffalo  were  visible.  These 
however  proved  to  be  nothing  more  than  old  straggling 
bulls,  feeding  upon  the  neighboring  plains,  who  would 
stare  for  a  moment  at  the  hostile  array  and  then  gallop 
clumsily  off.  At  length  we  could  discern  several  of  these 
scouts  making  their  signals  to  us  at  once ;  no  longer  wav- 
ing their  robes  boldly  from  the  top  of  the  hill,  but  standing 
lower  down,  so  that  they  could  not  be  seen  from  the  plains 
beyond.  Game  worth  pursuing  had  evidently  been  dis- 
covered. The  excited  Indians  now  urged  forward  their 
tired  horses  even  more  rapidly  than  before.  Pauline,  who 
was  still  sick  and  jaded,  began  to  groan  heavily ;  and  her 
yellow  sides  were  darkened  with  sweat.  As  we  were 
crowding  together  over  a  lower  intervening  hill,  I  heard 
Reynal  and  Raymond  shouting  to  me  from  the  left ;  and, 


THE   HUNTING    CAMP.  215 

looking  in  that  direction,  I  saw  them  riding  away  behind 
a  party  of  about  twenty  mean-looking  Indians.  These 
were  the  relatives  of  Reynal's  squaw,  Margot,  who,  not 
wishing  to  take  part  in  the  general  hunt,  were  riding 
towards  a  distant  hollow,  where  they  saw  a  small  band 
of  buffalo  which  they  meant  to  appropriate  to  them 
selves.  I  answered  to  the  call  by  ordering  Raymond  to 
turn  back  and  follow  me.  He  reluctantly  obeyed,  though 
Reynal,  who  had  relied  on  his  assistance  in  skinning,  cut- 
ting up,  and  carrying  to  camp  the  buffalo  that  he  and  his 
party  should  kill,  loudly  protested,  and  declared  that  we 
should  see  no  sport  if  we  went  with  the  rest  of  the  Indians. 
Followed  by  Raymond,  I  pursued  the  main  body  of  hunt- 
ers, while  Reynal,  in  a  great  rage,  whipped  his  horse  over 
the  hill  after  his  ragamuffin  relatives.  The  Indians,  still 
about  a  hundred  in  number,  galloped  in  a  dense  body  at 
some  distance  in  advance,  a  cloud  of  dust  flying  in  the 
wind  behind  them.  I  could  not  overtake  them  until  they 
had  stopped  on  the  side  of  the  hill  where  the  scouts  were 
standing.  Here  each  hunter  sprang  in  haste  from  the 
tired  animal  he  had  ridden,  and  leaped  upon  the  fresh 
horse  he  had  brought  with  him.  There  was  not  a  saddle 
or  a  bridle  in  the  whole  party.  A  piece  of  buffalo-robe, 
girthed  over  the  horse's  back,  served  in  the  place  of  the 
one,  and  a  cord  of  twisted  hair,  lashed  round  his  lower 
jaw,  answered  for  the  other.  Eagle  feathers  dangled  from 
every  mane  and  tail,  as  marks  of  courage  and  speed.  As 
for  the  rider,  he  wore  no  other  clothing  than  a  light  cinc- 
ture at  his  waist,  and  a  pair  of  moccasins.  He  had  a 
heavy  whip,  with  a  handle  of  solid  elk-horn,  and  a  lash 
of  knotted  bull-hide,  fastened  to  his  wrist  by  a  band.  His 
bow  was  in  his  hand,  and  his  quiver  of  otter  or  panther 
skin  hung  at  his  shoulder.  Thus  equipped,  some  thirty 
of  the  hunters  galloped  away  towards  the  left,  in  order  to 


216  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

make  a  circuit  under  cover  of  the  hills,  that  the  buffalo 
might  be  assailed  on  both  sides  at  once.  The  rest  im- 
patiently waited  until  time  enough  had  elapsed  for  their 
companions  to  reach  the  required  position.  Then  riding 
upward  in  a  body,  we  gained  the  ridge  of  the  hill,  and  for 
the  first  time  came  in  sight  of  the  buffalo  on  the  plain 
beyond. 

They  were  a  band  of  cows,  four  or  five  hundred  in 
number,  crowded  together  near  the  bank  of  a  wide  stream 
that  was  soaking  across  the  sand-beds  of  the  valley. 
This  valley  was  a  large  circular  basin,  sun-scorched  and 
broken,  scantily  covered  with  herbage,  and  surrounded 
with  high  barren  hills,  from  an  opening  in  which  we  could 
see  our  allies  galloping  out  upon  the  plain.  The  wind 
blew  from  that  direction.  The  buffalo,  aware  of  their  ap- 
proach, had  begun  to  move,  though  very  slowly  and  in  a 
compact  mass.  I  have  no  farther  recollection  of  seeing 
the  game  until  we  were  in  the  midst  of  them,  for  as  we 
rode  down  the  hill  other  objects  engrossed  my  attention. 
Numerous  old  bulls  were  scattered  over  the  plain,  and  un- 
gallantly  deserting  their  charge  at  our  approach  began  to 
wade  and  plunge  through  the  quicksands  of  the  stream, 
and  gallop  away  towards  the  hills.  One  old  veteran  was 
straggling  behind  the  rest,  with  one  of  his  fore-legs,  which 
had  been  broken  by  some  accident,  dangling  about  use- 
lessly. His  appearance  as  he  went  shambling  along  on 
three  legs,  was  so  ludicrous  that  I  could  not  help  pausing 
for  a  moment  to  look  at  him.  As  I  came  near,  he  would 
try  to  rush  upon  me,  nearly  throwing  himself  down  at 
every  awkward  attempt.  Looking  up,  I  saw  the  whole  body 
of  Indians  full  an  hundred  yards  in  advance.  I  lashed 
Pauline  in  pursuit  and  reached  them  just  in  time ;  for,  at 
that  moment,  each  hunter,  as  if  by  a  common  impulse, 
violently  struck  his  horse,  each  horse  sprang  forward,  and. 


THE   HUNTING  CAMP. 

scattering  in  the  charge  in  order  to  assail  the  entire  herd 
at  once,  we  all  rushed  headlong  upon  the  buffalo.  We 
were  among  them  in  an  instant.  Amid  the  trampling 
and  the  yells  I  could  see  their  dark  figures  running  hither 
and  thither  through  clouds  of  dust,  and  the  horsemen 
darting  in  pursuit.  While  we  were  charging  on  one  side, 
our  companions  attacked  the  bewildered  and  panic-stricken 
herd  on  the  other.  The  uproar  and  confusion  lasted  but 
a  moment.  The  dust  cleared  away,  and  the  buffalo  could 
be  seen  scattering  as  from  a  common  centre,  flying  over 
the  plain  singly,  or  in  long  files  and  small  compact  bodies, 
while  behind  them  followed  the  Indians,  riding  at  furious 
speed,  and  yelling  as  they  launched  arrow  after  arrow  into 
their  sides.  The  carcasses  were  strewn  thickly  over  the 
ground.  Here  and  there  stood  wounded  buffalo,  their 
bleeding  sides  feathered  with  arrows  ;  and  as  I  rode  by 
them  their  eyes  would  glare,  they  would  bristle  like 
gigantic  cats,  and  feebly  attempt  to  rush  up  and  gore 
my  horse. 

I  left  camp  that  morning  with  a  philosophic  resolution. 
Neither  I  nor  my  horse  were  at  that  time  fit  for  such 
sport,  and  I  had  determined  to  remain  a  quiet  spectator ; 
but  amid  the  rush  of  horses  and  buffalo,  the  uproar  and 
the  dust,  I  found  it  impossible  to  sit  still ;  and  as  four  or 
five  buffalo  ran  past  me  in  a  line,  I  lashed  Pauline  in  pur- 
suit. We  went  plunging  through  the  water  and  the  quick- 
sands, and  clambering  the  bank,  chased  them  through 
the  wild-sage  bushes  that  covered  the  rising  ground  be- 
yond. But  neither  her  native  spirit  nor  the  blows  of  the 
knotted  bull-hide  could  supply  the  place  of  poor  Pauline's 
exhausted  strength.  We  could  not  gain  an  inch  upon  the 
fugitives.  At  last,  however,  they  came  full  upon  a  ravine 
too  wide  to  leap  over ;  and  as  this  compelled  them  to 
turn  abruptly  to  the  left,  I  contrived  to  get  within  ten  or 


218  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

twelve  yards  of  the  hindmost.  At  this  she  faced  about, 
bristled  angrily,  and  made  a  show  of  charging.  I  shot  at 
her,  and  hit  her  somewhere  in  the  neck.  Down  she 
tumbled  into  the  ravine,  whither  her  companions  had 
descended  before  her.  I  saw  their  dark  backs  appearing 
and  disappearing  as  they  galloped  along  the  bottom ;  then, 
one  by  one,  they  scrambled  out  on  the  other  side,  and 
ran  off  as  before,  the  wounded  animal  following  with  the 
rest. 

Turning  back,  I  saw  Raymond  coming  on  his  black 
mule  to  meet  me ;  and  as  we  rode  over  the  field  together, 
we  counted  scores  of  carcasses  lying  on  the  plain,  in  the 
ravines,  and  on  the  sandy  bed  of  the  stream.  Far  away 
in  the  distance,  horsemen  and  buffalo  were  still  scouring 
along,  with  clouds  of  dust  rising  behind  them ;  and  over 
the  sides  of  the  hills  long  files  of  the  frightened  animals 
were  rapidly  ascending.  The  hunters  began  to  return. 
The  boys,  who  had  held  the  horses  behind  the  hill,  made 
their  appearance,  and  the  work  of  flaying  and  cutting  up 
began  in  earnest  all  over  the  field.  I  noticed  my  host 
Kongra-Tonga  beyond  the  stream,  just  alighting  by  the 
side  of  a  cow  which  he  had  killed.  Riding  up  to  him,  I 
found  him  in  the  act  of  drawing  out  an  arrow,  which, 
with  the  exception  of  the  notch  at  the  end,  had  entirely 
disappeared  in  the  animal.  I  asked  him  to  give  it  to  me, 
and  I  still  retain  it  as  a  proof,  though  by  no  means  the 
most  striking  one  that  could  be  offered,  of  the  force  and 
dexterity  with  which  the  Indians  discharge  their  arrows. 

The  hides  and  meat  were  piled  upon  the  horses,  and 
the  hunters  began  to  leave  the  ground.  Raymond  and  I, 
too,  getting  tired  of  the  scene,  set  out  for  the  village, 
riding  straight  across  the  intervening  desert.  There  was 
no  path,  and  as  far  as  I  could  see,  no  landmarks  sufficient 
to  guide  us ;  but  Raymond  seemed  to  have  an  instinctive 


THE  HUNTING   CAMP.  219 

perception  of  the  point  on  the  horizon  towards  which  we 
ought  to  direct  our  course.  Antelope  were  bounding  on 
all  sides,  and  as  is  always  the  case  in  the  presence  of 
buffalo,  they  seemed  to  have  lost  their  natural  shyness. 
Bands  of  them  would  run  lightly  up  the  rocky  declivities, 
and  stand  gazing  down  upon  us  from  the  summit.  At 
length  we  could  distinguish  the  tall  white  rocks  and  the  old 
pine-trees  that,  as  we  well  remembered,  were  just  above 
the  site  of  the  encampment.  Still  we  could  see  nothing  of 
the  camp  itself,  until,  mounting  a  grassy  hill,  we  saw  the 
circle  of  lodges,  dingy  with  storms  and  smoke,  standing 
on  the  plain  at  our  feet. 

I  entered  the  lodge  of  my  host.  His  squaw  instantly 
brought  me  food  and  water,  and  spread  a  buffalo-robe  for 
me  to  lie  upon ;  and  being  much  fatigued  I  lay  down  and 
fell  asleep.  In  about  an  hour,  the  entrance  of  Kongra- 
Tonga,  with  his  arms  smeared  with  blood  to  the  elbows, 
awoke  me ;  he  sat  down  in  his  usual  seat,  on  the  left  side 
of  the  lodge.  His  squaw  gave  him  a  vessel  of  water  for 
washing,  set  before  him  a  bowl  of  boiled  meat,  and,  as  he 
was  eating,  pulled  off  his  bloody  moccasins  and  placed 
fresh  ones  on  his  feet ;  then  outstretching  his  limbs,  my 
host  composed  himself  to  sleep. 

And  now  the  hunters,  two  or  three  at  a  time,  came 
rapidly  in,  and  each  consigning  his  horses  to  the  squaws, 
entered  his  lodge  with  the  air  of  a  man  whose  day's  work 
was  done.  The  squaws  flung  down  the  load  from  the 
burdened  horses,  and  vast  piles  of  meat  and  hides  were 
soon  gathered  before  every  lodge.  By  this  time  it  was 
darkening  fast,  and  the  whole  village  was  illumined  by 
the  glare  of  fires.  All  the  squaws  and  children  were 
gathered  about  the  piles  of  meat,  exploring  them  in  search 
of  the  daintiest  portions.  Some  of  these  they  roasted  on 
sticks  before  the  fires,  but  often  they  dispensed  with  this 


220  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

superfluous  operation.  Late  into  the  night  the  fires  were 
still  glowing  upon  the  groups  of  f  easters  engaged  in  this 
savage  banquet  around  them. 

Several  hunters  sat  down  by  the  fire  in  Kongra-Tonga's 
lodge  to  talk  over  the  day's  exploits.  Among  the  rest, 
Mene-Seela  came  in.  Though  he  must  have  seen  full 
eighty  winters,  he  had  taken  an  active  share  in  the  day's 
sport.  He  boasted  that  he  had  killed  two  cows  that  morn- 
ing, and  would  have  killed  a  third  if  the  dust  had  not 
blinded  him  so  that  he  had  to  drop  his  bow  and  arrows 
and  press  both  hands  against  his  eyes  to  stop  the  pain. 
The  fire-light  fell  upon  his  wrinkled  face  and  shrivelled 
figure  as  he  sat  telling  his  story  with  such  inimitable 
gesticulation  that  every  man  in  the  lodge  broke  into  a 
laugh. 

Old  Mene-Seela  was  one  of  the  few  Indians  in  the  vil- 
lage with  whom  I  would  have  trusted  myself  alone  with- 
out suspicion,  and  the  only  one  from  whom  I  should  have 
received  a  gift  or  a  service  without  the  certainty  that  it 
proceeded  from  an  interested  motive.  He  was  a  great 
friend  to  the  whites.  He  liked  to  be  in  their  society,  and 
was  very  vain  of  the  favors  he  had  received  from  them. 
He  told  me  one  afternoon,  as  we  were  sitting  together  in 
his  son's  lodge,  that  he  considered  the  beaver  and  the 
whites  the  wisest  people  on  earth ;  indeed,  he  was  con- 
vinced they  were  the  same ;  and  an  incident  which  had 
happened  to  him  long  before  had  assured  him  of  this. 
So  he  began  the  following  story,  and  as  the  pipe  passed  in 
turn  to  him,  Reynal  availed  himself  of  these  interruptions 
to  translate  what  had  preceded.  But  the  old  man  ac- 
companied his  words  with  such  admirable  pantomime 
that  translation  was  hardly  necessary. 

He  said  that  when  he  was  very  young,  and  had  never  yet 
seen  a  white  man,  he  and  three  or  four  of  his  companions 


THE   HUNTING   CAMP.  221 

were  out  on  a  beaver  hunt,  and  he  crawled  into  a  large 
beaver-lodge,  to  see  what  was  there.  Sometimes  he  crept 
on  his  hands  and  knees,  sometimes  he  was  obliged  to 
swim,  and  sometimes  to  lie  flat  on  his  face '  and  drag 
himself  along.  In  this  way  he  crawled  a  great  distance 
under  ground.  It  was  very  dark,  cold,  and  close,  so  that 
at  last  he  was  almost  suffocated,  and  fell  into  a  swoon. 
When  he  began  to  recover,  he  could  just  distinguish  the 
voices  of  his  companions  outside,  who  had  given  him  up 
for  lost,  and  were  singing  his  death-song.  At  first  he 
could  see  nothing,  but  soon  discerned  something  white 
before  him,  and  at  length  plainly  distinguished  three  peo- 
ple, entirely  white,  one  man  and  two  women,  sitting  at 
the  edge  of  a  black  pool  of  water.  He  became  alarmed, 
and  thought  it  high  time  to  retreat.  Having  succeeded, 
after  great  trouble,  in  reaching  daylight  again,  he  went  to 
the  spot  directly  above  the  pool  of  water  where  he  had 
seen  the  three  mysterious  beings.  Here  he  beat  a  hole 
with  his  war-club  in  the  ground,  and  sat  down  to  watch. 
In  a  moment  the  nose  of  an  old  male  beaver  appeared  at 
the  opening.  Mene-Seela  instantly  seized  him  and 
dragged  him  up,  when  two  other  beavers,  both  females, 
thrust  out  their  heads,  and  these  he  served  in  the  same 
way.  "  These,"  said  the  old  man,  concluding  his  story, 
for  which  he  was  probably  indebted  to  a  dream,  "  must 
have  been  the  three  white  people  whom  I  saw  sitting  at 
the  edge  of  the  water." 

Mene-Seela  was  the  grand  depositary  of  the  legends  and 
traditions  of  the  village.  I  succeeded,  however,  in  getting 
from  him  only  a  few  fragments.  Like  all  Indians,  he  was 
excessively  superstitious,  and  continually  saw  some  rea- 
son for  withholding  his  stories.  "  It  is  a  bad  thing,"  he 
would  say,  "  to  tell  the  tales  in  summer.  Stay  with  us 
till  next  winter,  and  I  will  tell  you  every  thing  I  know ; 


222  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

but  now  our  war-parties  are  going  out,  and  our  young 
men  will  be  killed  if  I  sit  down  to  tell  stories  before  the 
frost  begins." 

But  to  leave  this  digression.  We  remained  encamped 
on  this  spot  five  days,  during  three  of  which  the  hunters 
were  at  work  incessantly,  and  immense  quantities  of  meat 
and  hides  were  brought  in.  Great  alarm,  however,  pre- 
vailed in  the  village.  All  were  on  the  alert.  The  young 
men  ranged  the  country  as  scouts,  and  the  old  men  paid 
careful  attention  to  omens  and  prodigies,  and  especially 
to  their  dreams.  In  order  to  convey  to  the  enemy  (who, 
if  they  were  in  the  neighborhood,  must  inevitably  have 
known  of  our  presence)  the  impression  that  we  were  con- 
stantly on  the  watch,  piles  of  sticks  and  stones  were 
erected  on  all  the  surrounding  hills,  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  appear  at  a  distance  like  sentinels.  Often,  even  to  this 
hour,  that  scene  will  rise  before  my  mind  like  a  visible 
reality ;  the  tall  white  rocks  ;  the  old  pine-trees  on  their 
summits ;  the  sandy  stream  that  ran  along  their  bases 
and  half  encircled  the  village ;  and  the  wild-sage  bushes, 
with  their  dull  green  hue  and  their  medicinal  odor,  that 
covered  all  the  neighboring  declivities.  Hour  after  hour 
the  squaws  would  pass  and  repass  with  their  vessels  of 
water  between  the  stream  and  the  lodges.  For  the  most 
part,  no  one  was  to  be  seen  in  the  camp  but  women  and 
children,  two  or  three  superannuated  old  men,  and  a  few 
lazy  and  worthless  young  ones.  These,  together  with  the 
dogs,  now  grown  fat  and  good-natured  with  the  abundance 
in  the  camp,  were  its  only  tenants.  Still  it  presented  a 
busy  and  bustling  scene.  In  all  quarters  the  meat,  hung 
on  cords  of  hide,  was  drying  in  the  sun,  and  around  the 
lodges,  the  squaws,  young  and  old,  were  laboring  on  the 
fresh  hides  stretched  upon  the  ground,  scraping  the  hair 
from  one  side  and  the  still  adhering  flesh  from  the  other, 


THE   HUNTING   CAMP.  223 

and  rubbing  into  them  the  brains  of  the  buffalo,  in  order 
to  render  them  soft  and  pliant. 

In  mercy  to  myself  and  my  horse,  I  did  not  go  out  with 
the  hunters  after  the  first  day.  Of  late,  however,  I  had 
been  gaining  strength  rapidly,  as  was  always  the  case  upon 
every  respite  of  my  disorder.  I  was  soon  able  to  walk 
with  ease.  Raymond  and  I  would  go  out  upon  the  neigh- 
boring prairies  to  shoot  antelope,  or  sometimes  to  assail 
straggling  buffalo,  on  foot;  an  attempt  in  which  we  met 
with  rather  indifferent  success.  As  I  came  out  of  Kongra- 
Tonga's  lodge  one  morning,  Reynal  called  to  me  from  the 
opposite  side  of  the  village,  and  asked  me  over  to  break- 
fast. The  breakfast  was  a  substantial  one.  It  consisted 
of  the  rich,  juicy  hump-ribs  of  a  fat  cow ;  a  repast  abso- 
lutely unrivalled  in  its  way.  It  was  roasting  before  the 
fire,  impaled  upon  a  stout  stick,  which  Reynal  took  up 
and  planted  in  the  ground  before  his  lodge ;  when  he, 
with  Raymond  and  myself,  taking  our  seats  around  it, 
unsheathed  our  knives  and  assailed  it  with  good  will.  In 
spite  of  all  medical  experience,  this  solid  fare,  without 
bread  or  salt,  seemed  to  agree  with  me  admirably. 

"We  shall  have  strangers  here  before  night,"  said 
Reynal. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  dreamed  so.  I  am  as  good  at  dreaming  as  an  In- 
dian. There's  the  Hail-Storm;  he  dreamed  the  same 
thing,  and  he  and  his  crony,  The  Rabbit,  have  gone  out 
on  discovery." 

I  laughed  at  Reynal  for  his  credulity,  went  over  to  my 
host's  lodge,  took  down  my  rifle,  walked  out  a  mile  or  two 
on  the  prairie,  saw  an  old  bull  standing  alone,  crawled 
up  a  ravine,  shot  him,  and  saw  him  escape.  Then,  ex- 
hausted and  rather  ill-humored,  I  walked  back  to  the 
village.  By  a  strange  coincidence,  Reynal's  prediction 


224  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

had  been  verified ;  for  the  first  persons  whom  I  saw  were 
the  two  trappers,  Rouleau  and  Saraphin,  coming  to  meet 
me.  These  men,  as  the  reader  may  possibly  recollect, 
had  left  our  party  about  a  fortnight  before.  They  had 
been  trapping  among  the  Black  Hills,  and  were  now  on 
their  way  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  intending  in  a  day  or 
two  to  set  out  for  the  neighboring  Medicine  Bow.  They 
were  not  the  most  elegant  or  refined  of  companions,  yet 
they  made  a  very  welcome  addition  to  the  limited  society 
of  the  village.  For  the  rest  of  that  day  we  lay  smoking 
and  talking  in  Reynal's  lodge.  This  indeed  was  no  better 
than  a  hut,  made  of  hides  stretched  on  poles,  and  entirely 
open  in  front.  It  was  well  carpeted  with  soft  buffalo- 
robes,  and  here  we  remained,  sheltered  from  the  sun,  sur- 
rounded by  the  domestic  utensils  of  Madame  Margot's 
household.  All  was  quiet  in  the  village.  Though  the 
hunters  had  not  gone  out  that  day,  they  lay  sleeping  in 
their  lodges,  and  most  of  the  women  were  silently  en- 
gaged in  their  heavy  tasks.  A  few  young  men  were  play- 
ing at  a  lazy  game  of  ball  in  the  area  of  the  village ;  and 
when  they  became  tired,  some  girls  supplied  their  place 
with  a  more  boisterous  sport.  At  a  little  distance,  among 
the  lodges,  some  children  and  half-grown  squaws  were 
playfully  tossing  one  of  their  number  in  a  buffalo-robe, 
an  exact  counterpart  of  the  ancient  pastime  from  which 
Sancho  Panza  suffered  so  much.  Farther  out  on  the 
prairie,  a  host  of  little  naked  boys  were  roaming  about^ 
engaged  in  various  rough  games,  or  pursuing  birds  and 
ground-squirrels  with  their  bows  and  arrows ;  and  woe  to 
the  unhappy  little  animals  that  fell  into  their  merciless, 
torture-loving  hands.  A  squaw  from  the  next  lodge,  a 
notable  housewife,  named  Weah  Washtay,  or  the  Good 
Woman,  brought  us  a  large  bowl  of  wasna,  and  went  into 
an  ecstasy  of  delight  when  I  presented  her  with  a  green 


THE   HUNTING    CAMP.  225 

glass  ring,  such  as  I  usually  wore  with  a  view  to  similar 
occasions. 

The  sun  went  down,  and  half  the  sky  was  glowing 
fiery  red,  reflected  on  the  little  stream  as  it  wound  away 
among  the  sage-bushes.  Some  young  men  left  the  vil- 
lage, and  soon  returned,  driving  in  before  them  all  the 
horses,  hundreds  in  number,  and  of  every  size,  age,  and 
color.  The  hunters  came  out,  and  each  securing  those 
that  belonged  to  him,  examined  their  condition,  and  tied 
them  fast  by  long  cords  to  stakes  driven  in  front  of  his 
lodge.  It  was  half  an  hour  before  the  bustle  subsided 
and  tranquillity  was  restored  again.  By  this  time  it  was 
nearly  dark.  Kettles  were  hung  over  the  fires,  around 
which  the  squaws  were  gathered  with  their  children, 
laughing  and  talking  merrily.  A  circle  of  a  different 
kind  was  formed  in  the  centre  of  the  village.  This  was 
composed  of  the  old  men  and  warriors  of  repute,  who  sat 
together  with  their  white  buffalo-robes  drawn  close  around 
their  shoulders;  and  as  the  pipe  passed  from  hand  to 
hand,  their  conversation  had  not  a  particle  of  the  gravity 
and  reserve  usually  ascribed  to  Indians.  I  sat  down  with 
them  as  usual.  I  had  in  my  hand  half  a  dozen  squibs 
and  serpents,  which  I  had  made  one  day  when  encamped 
upon  Laramie  Creek,  with  gunpowder  and  charcoal,  and 
the  leaves  of  "Fremont's  Expedition,"  rolled  round  a 
stout  lead-pencil.  I  waited  till  I  could  get  hold  of  the 
j  large  piece  of  burning  bois-de-vache  which  the  Indians 
kept  by  them  on  the  ground  for  lighting  their  pipes. 
With  this  I  lighted  all  the  fireworks  at  once,  and  tossed 
them  whizzing  and  sputtering  into  the  air,  over  the  heads 
of  the  company.  They  all  jumped  up  and  ran  off  with 
yelps  of  astonishment  and  consternation.  After  a  mo- 
ment or  two,  they  ventured  to  come  back  one  by  one, 
and  some  of  the  boldest,  picking  up  the  cases  of  burnt 


226  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

paper,  examined  them  with  eager  curiosity  to  discover 
their  mysterious  secret.  From  that  time  forward  I  en- 
joyed great  repute  as  a  "fire-medicine." 

The  camp  was  filled  with  the  low  hum  of  cheerful 
voices.  There  were  other  sounds,  however,  of  a  different 
kind ;  for  from  a  large  lodge,  lighted  up  like  a  gigantic 
lantern  by  the  blazing  fire  within,  came  a  chorus  of  dis- 
mal cries  and  wailings,  long  drawn  out,  like  the  howling 
of  wolves,  and  a  woman,  almost  naked,  was  crouching 
close  outside,  crying  violently,  and  gashing  her  legs  with 
a  knife  till  they  were  covered  with  blood.  Just  a  year 
before,  a  young  man  belonging  to  this  family  had  been 
slain  by  the  enemy,  and  his  relatives  were  thus  lament- 
ing his  loss.  Still  other  sounds  might  be  heard;  loud 
earnest  cries  often  repeated  from  amid  the  gloom,  at  a 
distance  beyond  the  village.  They  proceeded  from  some 
young  men  who,  being  about  to  set  out  in  a  few  days  on 
a  war-party,  were  standing  at  the  top  of  a  hill,  calling 
on  the  Great  Spirit  to  aid  them  in  their  enterprise. 
While  I  was  listening,  Rouleau,  with  a  laugh  on  his  care- 
less face,  called  to  me  and  directed  my  attention  to 
another  quarter.  In  front  of  the  lodge  where  Weah 
Washtay  lived,  another  squaw  was  standing,  angrily 
scolding  an  old  yellow  dog,  who  lay  on  the  ground  with 
his  nose  resting  between  his  paws,  and  his  eyes  turned 
sleepily  up  to  her  face,  as  if  pretending  to  give  respect- 
ful attention,  but  resolved  to  fall  asleep  as  soon  as  it  was 
all  over. 

"You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself!  "  said  the  old 
woman.  "  I  have  fed  you  well,  and  taken  care  of  you 
ever  since  you  were  small  and  blind,  and  could  only  crawl 
about  and  squeal  a  little,  instead  of  howling  as  you  do 
now.  When  you  grew  old,  I  said  you  were  a  good  dog. 
You  were  strong  and  gentle  when  the  load  was  put  on 


THE   HUNTING   CAMP.  227 

your  back,  and  you  never  ran  among  the  feet  of  the 
horses  when  we  were  all  travelling  together  over  the 
prairie.  But  you  had  a  bad  heart!  Whenever  a  rabbit 
jumped  out  of  the  bushes,  you  were  always  the  first  to 
run  after  him  and  lead  away  all  the  other  dogs  behind 
you.  You  ought  to  have  known  that  it  was  very  danger- 
ous to  act  so.  When  you  had  got  far  out  on  the  prairie, 
and  no  one  was  near  to  help  you,  perhaps  a  wolf  would 
jump  out  of  the  ravine ;  and  then  what  could  you  do  ? 
You  would  certainly  have  been  killed,  for  no  dog  can 
fight  well  with  a  load  on  his  back.  Only  three  days  ago 
you  ran  off  in  that  way,  and  turned  over  the  bag  of 
wooden  pins  with  which  I  used  to  fasten  up  the  front  of 
the  lodge.  Look  up  there,  and  you  will  see  that  it  is  all 
flapping  open.  And  now  to-night  you  have  stolen  a 
great  piece  of  fat  meat  which  was  roasting  before  the 
fire  for  my  children.  I  tell  you,  you  have  a  bad  heart, 
and  you  must  die !  " 

So  saying,  the  squaw  went  into  the  lodge,  and  coming 
out  with  a  large  stone  mallet,  killed  the  unfortunate  dog 
at  one  blow.  This  speech  is  worthy  of  notice,  as  illus- 
trating a  curious  characteristic  of  the  Indians,  who  as- 
scribe  intelligence  and  a  power  of  understanding  speech 
to  the  inferior  animals ;  to  whom,  indeed,  according  to 
many  of  their  traditions,  they  are  linked  in  close  affinity ; 
and  they  even  claim  the  honor  of  a  lineal  descent  from 
bears,  wolves,  deer,  or  tortoises. 

As  it  grew  late,  I  walked  across  the  village  to  the 
lodge  of  my  host,  Kongra-Tonga.  As  I  entered  I  saw 
him,  by  the  blaze  of  the  fire  in  the  middle,  reclining  half 
asleep  in  his  usual  place.  His  couch  was  by  no  means 
an  uncomfortable  one.  It  consisted  of  buffalo-robes,  laid 
together  on  the  ground,  and  a  pillow  made  of  whitened 
deer-skin,  stuffed  with  feathers  and  ornamented  with 


228  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

beads.  At  his  back  was  a  light  frame-work  of  poles  and 
slender  reeds,  against  which  he  could  lean  with  ease 
when  in  a  sitting  posture;  and  at  the  top  of  it,  just 
above  his  head,  hung  his  bow  and  quiver.  His  squaw, 
a  laughing,  broad-faced  woman,  apparently  had  not  yet 
completed  her  domestic  arrangements,  for  she  was  bus- 
tling about  the  lodge,  pulling  over  the  utensils  and  the 
bales  of  dried  meat  that  were  ranged  carefully  around  it. 
Unhappily,  she  and  her  partner  were  not  the  only  tenants 
of  the  dwelling ;  for  half  a  dozen  children  were  scattered 
about,  sleeping  in  every  imaginable  posture.  My  saddle 
was  in  its  place  at  the  head  of  the  lodge,  and  a  buffalo- 
robe  was  spread  on  the  ground  before  it.  Wrapping 
myself  in  my  blanket,  I  lay  down ;  but  had  I  not  been 
extremely  fatigued,  the  noise  in  the  next  lodge  would 
have  prevented  my  sleeping.  There  was  the  monotonous 
thumping  of  the  Indian  drum,  mixed  with  occasional 
sharp  yells,  and  a  chorus  chanted  by  twenty  voices.  A 
grand  scene  of  gambling  was  going  forward  with  all  the 
appropriate  formalities.  The  players  were  staking  on  the 
chances  of  the  game  their  ornaments,  their  horses,  and  as 
the  excitement  rose,  their  garments,  and  even  their 
weapons ;  for  desperate  gambling  is  not  confined  to  the 
hells  of  Paris.  The  men  of  the  plains  and  forests  no 
less  resort  to  it  as  a  relief  to  the  tedious  monotony  of 
their  lives,  which  alternate  between  fierce  excitement  and 
listless  inaction.  I  fell  asleep  with  the  dull  notes  of  the 
drum  still  sounding  on  my  ear;  but  these  orgies  lasted 
without  intermission  till  daylight.  I  was  soon  awakened 
by  one  of  the  children  crawling  over  me,  while  another 
larger  one  was  tugging  at  my  blanket  and  nestling  him- 
self in  a  very  disagreeable  proximity.  I  immediately  re- 
pelled these  advances  by  punching  the  heads  of  these 
miniature  savages  with  a  short  stick  which  I  always  kept 


THE   HUNTING    CAMP.  229 

by  me  for  the  purpose ;  and  as  sleeping  half  the  day  and 
eating  much  more  than  is  good  for  them  makes  them 
extremely  restless,  this  operation  usually  had  to  be  re- 
peated four  or  five  times  in  the  course  of  the  night.  My 
host  himself  was  the  author  of  another  formidable  annoy- 
ance. All  these  Indians,  and  he  among  the  rest,  think 
themselves  bound  to  the  constant  performance  of  certain 
acts  as  the  condition  on  which  their  success  in  life  de- 
pends, whether  in  war,  love,  hunting,  or  any  other  em- 
ployment. These  "  medicines, "  as  they  are  called,  which 
are  usually  communicated  in  dreams,  are  often  absurd 
enough.  Some  Indians  will  strike  the  butt  of  the  pipe 
against  the  ground  every  time  they  smoke ;  others  will 
insist  that  every  thing  they  say  shall  be  interpreted  by 
contraries;  and  Shaw  once  met  an  old  man  who  con- 
ceived that  all  would  be  lost  unless  he  compelled  every 
white  man  he  met  to  drink  a  bowl  of  cold  water.  My 
host  was  particularly  unfortunate  in  his  allotment.  The 
spirits  had  told  him  in  a  dream  that  he  must  sing  a  cer- 
tain song  in  the  middle  of  every  night;  and  regularly  at 
about  twelve  o'clock  his  dismal  monotonous  chanting 
would  awaken  me,  and  I  would  see  him  seated  bolt  up- 
right on  his  couch,  going  through  his  dolorous  perform- 
ance with  a  most  business-like  air.  There  were  other 
voices  of  the  night,  still  more  inharmonious.  Twice  or 
thrice,  between  sunset  and  dawn,  all  the  dogs  in  the  vil- 
lage, and  there  were  hundreds  of  them,  would  bay  and 
yelp  in  chorus ;  a  horrible  clamor,  resembling  no  sound 
that  I  have  ever  heard,  except  perhaps  the  frightful  howl- 
ing of  wolves  that  we  used  sometimes  to  hear,  long  after- 
ward, when  descending  the  Arkansas  on  the  trail  of 
General  Kearney's  army.  This  canine  uproar  is,  if  possi- 
ble, more  discordant  than  that  of  the  wolves.  Heard  at 
a  distance  slowly  rising  on  the  night,  it  has  a  strange 


230  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

unearthly  effect,  and  would  fearfully  haunt  the  dreams  oi 
a  nervous  man;  but  when  you  are  sleeping  in  the  midst 
of  it,  the  din  is  outrageous.  One  long,  loud  howl  begins 
it,  and  voice  after  voice  takes  up  the  sound,  till  it  passes 
around  the  whole  circumference  of  the  village,  and  the 
air  is  filled  with  confused  and  discordant  cries,  at  once 
fierce  and  mournful.  It  lasts  a  few  moments,  and  then 
dies  away  into  silence. 

Morning  came,  and  Kongra-Tonga,  mounting  his 
horse,  rode  out  with  the  hunters.  It  may  not  be  amiss  to 
glance  at  him  for  an  instant  in  his  character  of  husband 
and  father.  Both  he  and  his  squaw,  like  most  other  In- 
dians, were  very  fond  of  their  children,  whom  they  in- 
dulged to  excess,  and  never  punished,  except  in  extreme 
cases,  when  they  would  throw  a  bowl  of  cold  water  over 
them.  Their  offspring  became  sufficiently  undutif ul  and 
disobedient  under  this  system  of  education,  which  tends 
not  a  little  to  foster  that  wild  idea  of  liberty  and  utter 
intolerance  of  restraint  which  lie  at  the  foundation  of 
the  Indian  character.  It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  fonder 
father  than  Kongra-Tonga.  There  was  one  urchin  in 
particular,  rather  less  than  two  feet  high,  to  whom  he 
was  exceedingly  attached;  and  sometimes  spreading  a 
buffalo-robe  in  the  lodge,  he  would  seat  himself  upon  it, 
place  his  small  favorite  upright  before  him,  and  chant  in 
a  low  tone  some  of  the  words  used  as  an  accompaniment 
to  the  war-dance.  The  little  fellow,  who  could  just 
manage  to  balance  himself  by  stretching  out  both  arms, 
would  lift  his  feet  and  turn  slowly  round  and  round  in 
time  to  his  father's  music,  while  my  host  would  laugh 
with  delight,  and  look  smiling  up  into  my  face  to  see 
if  I  were  admiring  this  precocious  performance  of  his 
offspring.  In  his  capacity  of  husband  he  was  less  tender. 
The  squaw  who  lived  in  the  lodge  with  him  had  been  his 


THE   HUNTING   CAMP.  231 

partner  for  many  years.  She  took  good  care  of  his 
children  and  his  household  concerns.  He  liked  her  well 
enough,  and  as  far  as  I  could  see,  they  never  quarrelled ; 
but  his  warmer  affections  were  reserved  for  younger  and 
more  recent  favorites.  Of  these  he  had  at  present  only 
one,  who  lived  in  a  lodge  apart  from  his  own.  One  day 
while  in  this  camp,  he  became  displeased  with  her,  pushed 
her  out,  threw  after  her  her  ornaments,  dresses,  and 
every  thing  she  had,  and  told  her  to  go  home  to  her  father. 
Having  consummated  this  summary  divorce,  for  which  he 
could  show  good  reasons,  he  came  back,  seated  himself 
in  his  usual  place,  and  began  to  smoke  with  an  air  of  the 
utmost  tranquillity  and  self-satisfaction. 

I  was  sitting  in  the  lodge  with  him  on  that  very  after- 
noon, when  I  felt  some  curiosity  to  learn  the  history  of 
the  numerous  scars  that  appeared  on  his  naked  body.  Of 
some  of  them,  however,  I  did  not  venture  to  inquire,  for 
I  already  understood  their  origin.  Each  of  his  arms  was 
marked  as  if  deeply  gashed  with  a  knife  at  regular  inter- 
vals, and  there  were  other  scars  also,  of  a  different  char- 
acter, on  his  back  and  on  either  breast.  They  were  the 
traces  of  the  tortures  which  these  Indians,  in  common 
with  a  few  other  tribes,  inflict  upon  themselves  at  certain 
seasons ;  in  part,  it  may  be,  to  gain  the  glory  of  courage 
and  endurance,  but  chiefly  as  an  act  of  self-sacrifice  to 
secure  the  favor  of  the  spirits.  The  scars  upon  the  breast 
and  back  were  produced  by  running  through  the  flesh 
strong  splints  of  wood,  to  which  heavy  buffalo-skulls  are 
fastened  by  cords  of  hide,  and  the  wretch  runs  forward 
with  all  his  strength,  assisted  by  two  companions,  who 
take  hold  of  each  arm,  until  the  flesh  tears  apart  and 
the  skulls  are  left  behind.  Others  of  Kongra-Tonga's 
scars  were  the  result  of  accidents ;  but  he  had  many  re- 
ceived in  war.  He  was  one  of  the  most  noted  warriors  in 


232  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

the  village.  In  the  course  of  his  life  he  had  slain,  as  he 
boasted  to  me,  fourteen  men ;  and  though,  like  other  In- 
dians, he  was  a  braggart  and  liar,  yet  in  this  statement 
common  report  bore  him  out.  Being  flattered  by  my 
inquiries,  he  told  me  tale  after  tale,  true  or  false,  of  his 
warlike  exploits ;  and  there  was  one  among  the  rest  illus- 
trating the  worst  features  of  Indian  character  too  well  for 
me  to  omit  it.  Pointing  out  of  the  opening  of  the  lodge 
towards  the  Medicine  Bow  Mountain,  not  many  miles 
distant,  he  said  that  he  was  there  a  few  summers  ago  with 
a  war-party  of  his  young  men.  Here  they  found  two 
Snake  Indians,  hunting.  They  shot  one  of  them  with 
arrows,  and  chased  the  other  up  the  side  of  the  mountain 
till  they  surrounded  him,  and  Kongra- Tonga  himself, 
jumping  forward  among  the  trees,  seized  him  by  the  arm. 
Two  of  his  young  men  then  ran  up  and  held  him  fast 
while  he  scalped  him  alive.  They  then  built  a  great  fire, 
and  cutting  the  tendons  of  their  captive's  wrists  and 
feet,  threw  him  in,  and  held  him  down  with  long  poles 
until  he  was  burnt  to  death.  He  garnished  his  story 
with  descriptive  particulars  much  too  revolting  to  men- 
tion. His  features  were  remarkably  mild  and  open,  with- 
out the  fierceness  of  expression  common  among  these 
Indians ;  and  as  he  detailed  these  devilish  cruelties,  he 
looked  up  into  my  face  with  the  air  of  earnest  simplicity 
which  a  little  child  would  wear  in  relating  to  its  mother 
some  anecdote  of  its  youthful  experience. 

Old  Mene-Seela's  lodge  could  offer  another  illustration 
of  the  ferocity  of  Indian  warfare.  A  bright-eyed  active 
little  boy  was  living  there  who  had  belonged  to  a  village 
of  the  Gros-Ventre  Blackfeet,  a  small  but  bloody  and 
treacherous  band,  in  close  alliance  with  the  Arapahoes. 
About  a  year  before,  Kongra-Tonga  and  a  party  of  war- 
riors had  found  about  twenty  lodges  of  these  Indiana 


THE  HUNTING   CAMP.  233 

upon  the  plains  a  little  to  the  eastward  of  our  present 
camp ;  and  surrounding  them  in  the  night,  they  butchered 
men,  women,  and  children,  preserving  only  this  little  boy 
alive.  He  was  adopted  into  the  old  man's  family,  and 
was  now  fast  becoming  identified  with  the  Ogillallah  chil- 
dren, among  whom  he  mingled  on  equal  terms.  There 
was  also  a  Crow  warrior  in  the  village,  a  man  of  gigantic 
stature  and  most  symmetrical  proportions.  Having  been 
taken  prisoner  many  years  before  and  adopted  by  a  squaw 
in  place  of  a  son  whom  she  had  lost,  he  had  forgotten  his 
old  nationality,  and  was  now  both  in  act  and  inclination 
an  Ogillallah. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  scheme  of  the  grand 
war-party  against  the  Snake  and  Crow  Indians  originated 
in  this  village ;  and  though  this  plan  had  fallen  to  the 
ground,  the  embers  of  martial  ardor  continued  to  glow. 
Eleven  young  men  had  prepared  to  go  out  against  the 
enemy,  and  the  fourth  day  of  our  stay  in  this  camp  was 
fixed  upon  for  their  departure.  At  the  head  of  this  party 
was  a  well-built,  active  little  Indian,  called  the  White 
Shield,  whom  I  had  always  noticed  for  the  neatness  of 
his  dress  and  appearance.  His  lodge  too,  though  not  a 
large  one,  was  the  best  in  the  village,  his  squaw  was  one 
of  the  prettiest,  and  altogether  his  dwelling  was  the  model 
of  an  Ogillallah  domestic  establishment.  I  was  often  a 
visitor  there,  for  the  White  Shield  being  rather  partial  to 
white  men  used  to  invite  me  to  continual  feasts  at  all 
hours  of  the  day.  Once,  when  the  substantial  part  of  the 
entertainment  was  over,  and  he  and  I  were  seated  cross- 
legged  on  a  buffalo-robe  smoking  together  very  amicably, 
he  took  down  his  warlike  equipments,  which  were  hang- 
ing around  the  lodge,  and  displayed  them  with  great 
pride  and  self-importance.  Among  the  rest  was  a  superb 
head-dress  of  feathers.  Taking  this  from  its  case,  he 


234  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

put  it  on  and  stood  before  me,  perfectly  conscious  of  the 
gallant  air  which  it  gave  to  his  dark  face  and  his  vigorous 
graceful  figure.  He  told  me  that  upon  it  were  the 
feathers  of  three  war-eagles,  equal  in  value  to  the  same 
number  of  good  horses.  He  took  up  also  a  shield  gayly 
painted  and  hung  with  feathers.  The  effect  of  these  bar- 
baric ornaments  was  admirable.  His  quiver  was  made  of 
the  spotted  skin  of  a  small  panther,  common  among  the 
Black  Hills,  from  which  the  tail  and  distended  claws 
were  still  allowed  to  hang.  The  White  Shield  concluded 
his  entertainment  in  a  manner  characteristic  of  an  Indian. 
He  begged  of  me  a  little  powder  and  ball,  for  he  had  a 
gun  as  well  as  a  bow  and  arrows ;  but  this  I  was  obliged 
to  refuse,  because  I  had  scarcely  enough  for  my  own  use. 
Making  him,  however,  a  parting  present  of  a  paper  of 
vermilion,  I  left  him  quite  contented. 

On  the  next  morning  the  White  Shield  took  cold,  and 
was  attacked  with  an  inflammation  of  the  throat.  Im- 
mediately he  seemed  to  lose  all  spirit,  and  though  before 
no  warrior  in  the  village  had  borne  himself  more  proudly, 
he  now  moped  about  from  lodge  to  lodge  with  a  forlorn 
and  dejected  air.  At  length  he  sat  down,  close  wrapped 
in  his  robe,  before  the  lodge  of  Reynal,  but  when  he  found 
that  neither  he  nor  I  knew  how  to  relieve  him,  he  arose 
and  stalked  over  to  one  of  the  medicine-men  of  the  village. 
This  old  impostor  thumped  him  for  some  time  with  both 
fists,  howled  and  yelped  over  him,  and  beat  a  drum  close 
to  his  ear  to  expel  the  evil  spirit.  This  treatment  failing 
of  the  desired  effect,  the  White  Shield  withdrew  to  his 
own  lodge,  where  he  lay  disconsolate  for  some  hours. 
Making  his  appearance  once  more  in  the  afternoon,  he 
again  took  his  seat  on  the  ground  before  Reynal's  lodge, 
holding  his  throat  with  his  hand.  For  some  time  he  sat 
silent  with  his  eyes  fixed  mournfully  on  the  ground.  At 
last  he  began  to  speak  in  a  low  tone. 


THE   HUNTING   CAMP.  235 

"I  am  a  brave  man,"  he  said;  "all  the  young  men 
think  me  a  great  warrior,  and  ten  of  them  are  ready  to  go 
with  me  to  the  war.  I  will  go  and  show  them  the  enemy. 
Last  summer  the  Snakes  killed  my  brother.  I  cannot 
live  unless  I  revenge  his  death.  To-morrow  we  will  set 
out  and  I  will  take  their  scalps." 

The  White  Shield,  as  he  expressed  this  resolution, 
seemed  to  have  lost  all  the  accustomed  fire  and  spirit 
of  his  look,  and  hung  his  head  as  if  in  a  fit  of  despond- 
ency. 

As  I  was  sitting  that  evening  at  one  of  the  fires,  I  saw 
him  arrayed  in  his  splendid  war-dress,  his  cheeks  painted 
with  vermilion,  leading  his  favorite  war-horse  to  the  front 
of  his  lodge.  He  mounted  and  rode  round  the  village, 
singing  his  war-song  in  a  loud  hoarse  voice  amid  the  shrill 
acclamations  of  the  women.  •  Then  dismounting,  he  re- 
mained for  some  minutes  prostrate  upon  the  ground,  as 
if  in  an  act  of  supplication.  On  the  following  morning 
I  looked  in  vain  for  the  departure  of  the  warriors.  All 
was  quiet  in  the  village  until  late  in  the  forenoon,  when 
the  White  Shield  came  and  seated  himself  in  his  old  place 
before  us.  Reynal  asked  him  why  he  had  not  gone  out 
to  find  the  enemy? 

"I  cannot  go,"  he  answered  in  a  dejected  voice.  "I 
have  given  my  war-arrows  to  the  Meneaska." 

"  You  have  only  given  him  two  of  your  arrows, "  said 
Reynal.  "If  you  ask  him,  he  will  give  them  back 
again." 

For  some  time  the  White  Shield  said  nothing.  At 
last  he  spoke  in  a  gloomy  tone,  — 

"  One  of  my  young  men  has  had  bad  dreams.  The 
spirits  of  the  dead  came  and  threw  stones  at  him  in  his 
sleep." 

If  such  a  dream  had  actually  taken  place  it  might  have 


236  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

broken  up  this  or  any  other  war-party,  but  both  Reynai 
and  I  were  convinced  at  the  time  that  it  was  a  mere 
fabrication  to  excuse  his  remaining  at  home. 

The  White  Shield  was  a  warrior  of  noted  prowess. 
Very  probably,  he  would  have  received  a  mortal  wound 
without  the  show  of  pain,  and  endured  without  flinching 
the  worst  tortures  that  an  enemy  could  inflict  upon  him. 
The  whole  power  of  an  Indian's  nature  would  be  sum- 
moned to  encounter  such  a  trial;  every  influence  of  his 
education  from  childhood  would  have  prepared  him  for 
it ;  the  cause  of  his  suffering  would  have  been  visibly  arid 
palpably  before  him,  and  his  spirit  would  rise  to  set  his 
enemy  at  defiance,  and  gain  the  highest  glory  of  a  warrior 
by  meeting  death  with  fortitude.  But  when  he  feels  him- 
self attacked  by  a  mysterious  evil,  before  whose  assaults 
his  manhood  is  wasted,  and  his  strength  drained  away, 
when  he  can  see  no  enemy  to  resist  and  defy,  the  boldest 
warrior  falls  prostrate  at  once.  He  believes  that  a  bad 
spirit  has  taken  possession  of  him,  or  that  he  is  the  victim 
of  some  charm.  When  suffering  from  a  protracted  dis- 
order, an  Indian  will  often  abandon  himself  to  his  sup- 
posed destiny,  pine  away  and  die,  the  victim  of  his  own 
imagination.  The  same  effect  will  often  follow  a  series 
of  calamities,  or  a  long  run  of  ill-luck,  and  Indians  have 
been  known  to  ride  into  the  midst  of  an  enemy's  camp, 
or  attack  a  grizzly  bear  single-handed,  to  get  rid  of  a  life 
supposed  to  lie  under  the  doom  of  fate. 

Thus  after  all  his  fasting,  dreaming,  and  calling  upon 
the  Great  Spirit,  the  White  Shield's  war-party  came  to 
nought. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE   TRAPPERS. 

IN  speaking  of  the  Indians,  I  have  almost  forgotten  two 
bold  adventurers  of  another  race,  the  trappers  Rou- 
leau and  Saraphin.  These  men  were  bent  on  a  hazard- 
ous enterprise.  They  were  on  their  way  to  the  country 
ranged  by  the  Arapahoes,  a  day's  journey  west  of  our 
camp.  These  Arapahoes,  of  whom  Shaw  and  I  after- 
wards fell  in  with  a  large  number,  are  ferocious  savages, 
who  of  late  had  declared  themselves  enemies  to  the 
whites,  and  threatened  death  to  the  first  who  should  ven- 
ture within  their  territory.  The  occasion  of  the  declara- 
tion was  as  follows :  — 

In  the  preceding  spring,  1845,  Col.  Kearney  left  Fort 
Leavenworth  with  several  companies  of  dragoons,  marched 
to  Fort  Laramie,  passed  along  the  foot  of  the  mountains  to 
Bent's  Fort,  and  then,  turning  eastward  again,  returned 
to  the  point  whence  he  set  out.  While  at  Fort  Laramie, 
he  sent  a  part  of  his  command  as  far  westward  as  Sweet- 
water,  while  he  himself  remained  at  the  fort,  and  de 
spatched  messages  to  the  surrounding  Indians  to  meet; 
him  there  in  council.  Then  for  the  first  time  the  tribes 
of  that  vicinity  saw  the  white  warriors,  and,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  they  were  lost  in  astonishment  at 
their  regular  order,  their  gay  attire,  the  completeness  of 
their  martial  equipment,  and  the  size  and  strength  of  their 
horses.  Among  the  rest,  the  Arapahoes  came  in  consider- 
able numbers  to  the  fort.  They  had  lately  committed 


238  THE   OEEGON   TRAIL. 

numerous  murders,  and  Col.  Kearney  threatened  that  if 
they  killed  any  more  white  men  he  would  turn  loose  his 
dragoons  upon  them,  and  annihilate  their  nation.  In 
the  evening,  to  add  effect  to  his  speech,  he  ordered  a 
howitzer  to  be  fired  and  a  rocket  to  be  thrown  up.  Many 
of  the  Arapahoes  fell  flat  on  the  ground,  while  others  ran 
away  screaming  with  amazement  and  terror.  On  the  fol- 
lowing day  they  withdrew  to  their  mountains,  confounded 
at  the  appearance  of  the  dragoons,  at  their  big  gun  which 
went  off  twice  at  one  shot,  and  the  fiery  messenger  which 
they  had  sent  up  to  the  Great  Spirit.  For  many  months 
they  remained  quiet,  and  did  no  farther  mischief.  At 
length,  just  before  we  came  into  the  country,  one  of  them, 
by  an  act  of  the  basest  treachery,  killed  two  white  men, 
Boot  and  May,  who  were  trapping  among  the  mountains. 
For  this  act  it  was  impossible  to  discover  a  motive.  It 
seemed  to  spring  from  one  of  those  inexplicable  impulses 
which  often  possess  Indians,  and  which  appear  to  be  mere 
outbreaks  of  native  ferocity.  No  sooner  was  the  murder 
committed  than  the  whole  tribe  were  in  consternation. 
They  expected  every  day  that  the  avenging  dragoons 
would  come,  little  thinking  that  a  desert  of  nine  hundred 
miles  lay  between  them  and  their  enemy.  A  large  depu- 
tation of  them  came  to  Fort  Laramie,  bringing  a  valuable 
present  of  horses,  in  atonement.  These  Bordeaux  refused 
to  accept.  They  then  asked  if  he  would  be  satisfied  with 
their  delivering  up  the  murderer  himself ;  but  he  declined 
this  offer  also.  The  Arapahoes  went  back  more  terrified 
than  ever.  Weeks  passed  away,  and  still  no  dragoons 
appeared.  A  result  followed  which  those  best  acquainted 
with  Indians  had  predicted.  They  imagined  that  fear 
had  prevented  Bordeaux  from  accepting  their  gifts,  and 
that  they  had  nothing  to  apprehend  from  the  vengeance  of 
the  whites.  From  terror  they  rose  to  the  height  of  inso- 


THE    TRAPPERS.  239 

lence.  They  called  the  white  men  cowards  and  old 
women ;  and  a  friendly  Dahcotah  came  to  Fort  Laramie 
with  the  report  that  they  were  determined  to  kill  the 
first  white  dog  they  could  lay  hands  on. 

Had  a  military  officer,  with  suitable  powers,  been  sta- 
tioned at  Fort  Laramie ;  had  he  accepted  the  offer  of  the 
Arapahoes  to  deliver  up  the  murderer,  and  ordered  him 
to  be  led  out  and  shot,  in  presence  of  his  tribe,  they  would 
have  been  awed  into  tranquillity,  and  much  danger 
averted ;  but  now  the  neighborhood  of  the  Medicine  Bow 
Mountain  was  perilous  in  the  extreme.  Old  Mene- 
Seela,  a  true  friend  of  the  whites,  and  many  other  of 
the  Indians,  gathered  about  the  two  trappers,  and  vainly 
endeavored  to  turn  them  from  their  purpose ;  but  Rou- 
leau and  Saraphin  only  laughed  at  the  danger.  On  the 
morning  preceding  that  on  which  they  were  to  leave  the 
camp,  we  could  all  see  faint  white  columns  of  smoke 
rising  against  the  dark  base  of  the  Medicine  Bow.  Scouts 
were  sent  out  immediately,  and  reported  that  these  pro- 
ceeded from  an  Arapahoe  camp,  abandoned  only  a  few 
hours  before.  Still  the  two  trappers  continued  their 
preparations  for  departure. 

Saraphin  was  a  tall,  powerful  fellow,  with  a  sullen  and 
sinister  countenance.  His  rifle  had  very  probably  drawn 
other  blood  than  that  of  buffalo  or  Indians.  Rouleau  had 
a  broad  ruddy  face,  marked  with  as  few  traces  of  thought 
or  care  as  a  child's.  His  figure  was  square  and  strong, 
but  the  first  joints  of  both  his  feet  were  frozen  off,  and 
his  horse  had  lately  thrown  and  trampled  upon  him,  by 
which  he  had  been  severely  injured  in  the  chest.  But 
nothing  could  subdue  his  gayety.  He  went  all  day  roll- 
ing about  the  camp  on  his  stumps  of  feet,  talking,  singing, 
and  frollicking  with  the  Indian  women.  Rouleau  had  an 
unlucky  partiality  for  squaws.  He  always  had  one,  whom 


240  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

he  must  needs  bedizen  with  beads,  ribbons,  and  all  the 
finery  of  an  Indian  wardrobe ;  and  though  he  was  obliged 
to  leave  her  behind  him  during  his  expeditions,  this  haz- 
ardous necessity  did  not  at  all  trouble  him,  for  his  dis- 
position was  the  reverse  of  jealous.  If  at  any  time  he 
had  not  lavished  the  whole  of  the  precarious  profits  of 
his  vocation  upon  his  dark  favorite,  he  devoted  the  rest 
to  feasting  his  comrades.  If  liquor  was  not  to  be  had 
—  and  this  was  usually  the  case  —  strong  coffee  would 
be  substituted.  As  the  men  of  that  region  are  by  no 
means  remarkable  for  providence  or  self-restraint,  what- 
ever was  set  before  them  on  these  occasions,  however  ex- 
travagant in  price  or  enormous  in  quantity,  was  sure  to 
be  disposed  of  at  one  sitting.  Like  other  trappers,  Rou- 
leau's life  was  one  of  contrast  and  variety.  It  was  only 
at  certain  seasons,  and  for  a  limited  time,  that  he  was 
absent  on  his  expeditions.  For  the  rest  of  the  year  he 
would  lounge  about  the  fort,  or  encamp  with  his  friends 
in  its  vicinity,  hunting,  or  enjoying  all  the  luxury  of 
inaction ;  but  when  once  in  pursuit  of  the  beaver,  he  was 
involved  in  extreme  privations  and  perils.  Hand  and 
foot,  eye  and  ear,  must  be  always  alert.  Frequently  he 
must  content  himself  with  devouring  his  evening  meal 
uncooked,  lest  the  light  of  his  fire  should  attract  the 
eyes  of  some  wandering  Indian ;  and  sometimes  having 
made  his  rude  repast,  he  must  leave  his  fire  still  blazing, 
and  withdraw  to  a  distance  under  cover  of  the  darkness, 
that  his  disappointed  enemy,  drawn  thither  by  the  light, 
may  find  his  victim  gone,  and  be  unable  to  trace  his 
footsteps  in  the  gloom.  This  is  the  life  led  by  scores  of 
men  among  the  Rocky  Mountains.  I  once  met  a  trap- 
per whose  breast  was  marked  with  the  scars  of  six  bul- 
lets and  arrows,  one  of  his  arms  broken  by  a  shot  and 
one  of  his  knees  shattered ;  yet  still,  with  the  mettle  of 


THE    TRAPPERS.  241 

New  England,  whence  he  had  come,  he  continued  to 
follow  his  perilous  calling. 

On  the  last  day  of  our  stay  in  this  camp,  the  trappers 
were  ready  for  departure.  When  in  the  Black  Hills  they 
had  caught  seven  beavers,  and  they  now  left  their  skins 
in  charge  of  Reynal,  to  he  kept  until  their  return.  Their 
strong,  gaunt  horses  were  equipped  with  rusty  Spanish 
bits,  and  rude  Mexican  saddles,  to  which  wooden  stir- 
rups were  attached,  while  a  buffalo-robe  was  rolled  up  be- 
hind, and  a  bundle  of  beaver- traps  slung  at  the  pommel. 
These,  together  with  their  rifles,  knives,  powder-horns 
and  bullet-pouches,  flint  and  steel  and  a  tin  cup,  com- 
posed their  whole  travelling  equipment.  They  shook 
hands  with  us,  and  rode  away;  Saraphin,  with  his  grim 
countenance,  was  in  advance ;  but  Rouleau,  clambering 
gayly  into  his  seat,  kicked  his  horse's  sides,  flourished  his 
whip,  and  trotted  briskly  over  the  prairie,  trolling  forth  a 
Canadian  song  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  Reynal  looked 
after  them  with  his  face  of  brutal  selfishness. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "if  they  are  killed,  I  shall  have  the 
beaver.  They  '11  fetch  me  fifty  dollars  at  the  fort,  any- 
how." 

This  was  the  last  I  saw  of  them. 

We  had  been  five  days  in  the  hunting-camp,  and  the 
meat,  which  all  this  time  had  hung  drying  in  the  sun,  was 
now  fit  for  transportation.  Buffalo-hides  also  had  been 
procured  in  sufficient  quantities  for  making  the  next 
season's  lodges ;  but  it  remained  to  provide  the  long  poles 
on  which  they  were  to  be  supported.  These  were  only  to 
be  had  among  the  tall  spruce  woods  of  the  Black  Hills,  and 
in  that  direction  therefore  our  next  move  was  to  be  made. 
Amid  the  general  abundance  which  during  this  time  had 
prevailed  in  the  camp,  there  were  no  instances  of  indi- 
vidual privation ;  for  although  the  hide  and  the  tongue  of 

16 


242  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

the  buffalo  belong  by  exclusive  right  to  the  hunter  who 
has  killed  it,  yet  any  one  else  is  equally  entitled  to  help 
himself  from  the  rest  of  the  carcass.  Thus  the  weak,  the 
aged,  and  even  the  indolent  come  in  for  a  share  of  the 
spoils,  and  many  a  helpless  old  woman,  who  would  other- 
wise perish  from  starvation,  is  sustained  in  abundance. 

On  the  twenty-fifth  of  July,  late  in  the  afternoon,  the 
camp  broke  up,  with  the  usual  tumult  and  confusion,  and 
we  all  moved  once  more,  on  horseback  and  on  foot,  over 
the  plains.  We  advanced  however  but  a  few  miles.  The 
old  men,  who  during  the  whole  march  had  been  stoutly 
striding  along  on  foot  in  front  of  the  people,  now  seated 
themselves  in  a  circle  on  the  ground,  while  the  families, 
erecting  their  lodges  in  the  prescribed  order  around  them, 
formed  the  usual  great  circle  of  the  camp;  meanwhile 
these  village  patriarchs  sat  smoking  and  talking.  I 
threw  my  bridle  to  Raymond,  and  sat  down  as  usual  along 
with  them.  There  was  none  of  that  reserve  and  appar- 
ent dignity  which  an  Indian  always  assumes  when  in 
council,  or  in  the  presence  of  white  men  whom  he  dis- 
trusts. The  party,  on  the  contrary,  was  an  extremely 
merry  one,  and  as  in  a  social  circle  of  a  quite  different 
character,  "  if  there  was  not  much  wit,  there  was  at  least  a 
great  deal  of  laughter." 

When  the  first  pipe  was  smoked  out,  I  rose  and  with- 
drew to  the  lodge  of  my  host.  Here  I  was  'stooping,  in 
the  act  of  taking  off  my  powder-horn  and  bullet-pouch, 
when  suddenly,  and  close  at  hand,  pealing  loud  and  shrill, 
and  in  right  good  earnest,  came  the  terrific  yell  of  the 
war-whoop.  Kongra-Tonga's  squaw  snatched  up  her 
youngest  child,  and  ran  out  of  the  lodge.  I  followed, 
and  found  the  whole  village  in  confusion,  resounding  with 
cries  and  yells.  The  circle  of  old  men  in  the  centre  had 
Banished.  The  warriors,  with  glittering  eyes,  came  dart- 


THE    TRAPPERS.  243 

ing,  weapons  in  hand,  out  of  the  low  openings  of  the 
lodges,  and  running  with  wild  yells  towards  the  farther 
end  of  the  village.  Advancing  a  few  rods  in  that  direc- 
tion, I  saw  a  crowd  in  furious  agitation.  Just  then  I  dis^ 
tinguished  the  voices  of  Raymond  and  Reynal,  shouting 
to  me  from  a  distance,  and  looking  back,  I  saw  the  latter 
with  his  rifle  in  his  hand,  standing  on  the  farther  bank 
of  a  little  stream  that  ran  along  the  outskirts  of  the  camp. 
He  was  calling  to  Raymond  and  me  to  come  over  and 
join  him,  and  Raymond,  with  his  usual  deliberate  gait  and 
stolid  countenance,  was  already  moving  in  that  direction. 
This  was  clearly  the  wisest  course,  unless  we  wished  to 
involve  ourselves  in  the  fray ;  so  I  turned  to  go,  but  just 
then  a  pair  of  eyes,  gleaming  like  a  snake's,  and  an  aged 
familiar  countenance  was  thrust  from  the  opening  of  a 
neighboring  lodge,  and  out  bolted  old  Mene-Seela,  full  of 
fight,  clutching  his  bow  and  arrows  in  one  hand  and  his 
knife  in  the  other.  At  that  instant  he  tripped  and  fell 
sprawling  on  his  face,  while  his  weapons  flew  scattering 
in  every  direction.  The  women  with  loud  screams  were 
hurrying  with  their  children  in  their  arms  to  place  them 
out  of  danger,  and  I  observed  some  hastening  to  prevent 
mischief,  by  carrying  away  all  the  weapons  they  could  lay 
hands  on.  On  a  rising  ground  close  to  the  camp  stood  a 
line  of  old  women  singing  a  medicine-song  to  allay  the 
tumult.  As  I  approached  the  side  of  the  brook,  I  heard 
gun-shots  behind  me,  and  turning  back  saw  that  the  crowd 
had  separated  into  two  long  lines  of  naked  warriors  con- 
fronting each  other  at  a  respectful  distance,  and  yelling 
and  jumping  about  to  dodge  the  shot  of  their  adversa- 
ries, while  they  discharged  bullets  and  arrows  against 
each  other.  At  the  same  time  certain  sharp,  humming 
sounds  in  the  air  over  my  head,  like  the  flight  of  beetles 
on  a  summer  evening,  warned  me  that  the  danger  was 


244  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

not  wholly  confined  to  the  immediate  scene  of  the  fray. 
So  wading  through  the  brook,  I  joined  Reynal  and  Ray- 
mond, and  we  sat  down  on  the  grass,  in  the  posture  of 
an  armed  neutrality,  to  watch  the  result. 

Happily  it  may  be  for  ourselves,  though  contrary  to  our 
expectation,  the  disturbance  was  quelled  almost  as  soon 
as  it  began.  When  I  looked  again,  the  combatants  were 
once  more  mingled  together  in  a  mass.  Though  yells 
sounded  occasionally  from  the  throng,  the  firing  had  en- 
tirely ceased,  and  I  observed  five  or  six  persons  moving 
busily  about,  as  if  acting  the  part  of  peace-makers.  One 
of  the  village  heralds  or  criers  proclaimed  in  a  loud  voice 
something  which  my  two  companions  were  too  much  en- 
grossed in  their  own  observations,  to  translate  for  me. 
The  crowd  began  to  disperse,  though  many  a  deep-set 
black  eye  still  glittered  with  an  unnatural  lustre,  as  the 
warriors  slowly  withdrew  to  their  lodges.  This  fortunate 
suppression  of  the  disturbance  was  owing  to  a  few  of  the 
old  men,  less  pugnacious  than  Mene-Seela,  who  boldly  ran 
in  between  the  combatants,  and  aided  by  some  of  the 
"soldiers,"  or  Indian  police,  succeeded  in  effecting  their 
object. 

It  seemed  very  strange  to  me  that  although  many  ar- 
rows and  bullets  were  discharged,  no  one  was  mortally 
hurt,  and  I  could  only  account  for  this  by  the  fact  that 
both  the  marksman  and  the  object  of  his  aim  were  leaping 
about  incessantly.  By  far  the  greater  part  of  the  villagers 
had  joined  in  the  fray,  for  although  there  were  not  more 
than  a  dozen  guns  in  the  whole  camp,  I  heard  at  least 
eight  or  ten  shots  fired. 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  all  was  comparatively  quiet. 
A  group  of  warriors  was  again  seated  in  the  middle  of 
the  village,  but  this  time  I  did  not  venture  to  join  them, 
because  I  could  see  that  the  pipe,  contrary  to  the  usual 


THE   TRAPPERS. 


245 


order,  was  passing  from  the  left  hand  to  the  right  around 
the  circle ;  a  sure  sign  that  a  "  medicine-smoke  "  of  recon- 
ciliation was  going  forward,  and  that  a  white  man  would 
be  an  intruder.  When  I  again  entered  the  still  agitated 
camp  it  was  nearly  dark,  and  mournful  cries,  howls,  and 
wailings  resounded  from  many  female  voices.  Whether 
these  had  any  connection  with  the  late  disturbance,  or 
were  merely  lamentations  for  relatives  slain  in  some 
former  war  expeditions,  I  could  not  distinctly  ascertain. 
To  inquire  too  closely  into  the  cause  of  the  quarrel  was 
by  no  means  prudent,  and  it  was  not  until  some  time  after 
that  I  discovered  what  had  given  rise  to  it.  Among  the 
Dahcotah  there  are  many  associations  or  fraternities, 
superstitious,  warlike,  or  social.  Among  them  was  one 
called  "  The  Arrow-Breakers,"  now  in  great  measure  dis- 
banded and  dispersed.  In  the  village  there  were  however 
four  men  belonging  to  it,  distinguished  by  the  peculiar 
arrangement  of  their  hair,  which  rose  in  a  high  bristling 
mass  above  their  foreheads,  adding  greatly  to  their  ap- 
parent height,  and  giving  them  a  most  ferocious  appear- 
ance. The  principal  among  them  was  the  Mad  Wolf,  a 
warrior  of  remarkable  size  and  strength,  great  courage, 
and  the  fierceness  of  a  demon.  I  had  always  looked  upon 
him  as  the  most  dangerous  man  in  the  village ;  and  though 
he  often  invited  me  to  feasts,  I  never  entered  his  lodge 
unarmed.  The  Mad  Wolf  had  taken  a  fancy  to  a  fine 
horse  belonging  to  another  Indian,  called  the  Tall  Bear ; 
and  anxious  to  get  the  animal  into  his  possession,  he 
made  the  owner  a  present  of  another  horse  nearly  equal 
in  value.  According  to  the  customs  of  the  Dahcotah,  the 
acceptance  of  this  gift  involved  a  sort  of  obligation  to 
make  a  return ;  and  the  Tall  Bear  well  understood  that 
the  other  had  his  favorite  buffalo-horse  in  view.  He  how- 
ever accepted  the  present  without  a  word  of  thanks,  and 


246  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

having  picketed  the  horse  before  his  lodge,  suffered  day 
after  day  to  pass  without  making  the  expected  return. 
The  Mad  Wolf  grew  impatient;  and  at  last,  seeing  that 
his  bounty  was  not  likely  to  produce  the  desired  result, 
he  resolved  to  reclaim  it.  So  this  evening,  as  soon  aa 
the  village  was  encamped,  he  went  to  the  lodge  of  the 
Tall  Bear,  seized  upon  the  horse  he  had  given  him,  and 
led  him  away.  At  this  the  Tall  Bear  broke  into  one  of 
those  fits  of  sullen  rage  not  uncommon  among  Indians, 
ran  up  to  the  unfortunate  horse,  and  gave  him  three  mor- 
tal stabs  with  his  knife.  Quick  as  lightning  the  Mad 
Wolf  drew  his  bow  to  its  utmost  tension,  and  held  the 
arrow  quivering  close  to  the  breast  of  his  adversary.  The 
Tall  Bear,  as  the  Indians  who  were  near  him  said,  stood 
with  his  bloody  knife  in  his  hand,  facing  the  assailant 
with  the  utmost  calmness.  Some  of  his  friends  and  rela- 
tives, seeing  his  danger,  ran  hastily  to  his  assistance. 
The  remaining  three  Arrow-Breakers,  on  the  other  hand, 
came  to  the  aid  of  their  associate.  Their  friends  joined 
them,  the  war-cry  was  raised,  and  the  tumult  became 
general. 

The  "soldiers,"  who  lent  their  timely  aid  in  putting  it 
down,  are  the  most  important  executive  functionaries  in 
an  Indian  village.  The  office  is  one  of  considerable  honor, 
being  confided  only  to  men  of  courage  and  repute.  They 
derive  their  authority  from  the  old  men  and  chief  war- 
riors of  the  village,  who  elect  them  in  councils  occasion- 
ally convened  for  the  purpose,  and  thus  can  exercise  a 
degree  of  authority  which  no  one  else  in  the  village 
would  dare  to  assume.  While  very  few  Ogillallah  chiefs 
could  venture  without  risk  of  their  lives  to  strike  or  lay 
hands  upon  the  meanest  of  their  people,  the  "soldiers,"  in 
the  discharge  of  their  appropriate  functions,  have  full 
license  to  make  use  of  these  and  similar  acts  of  coercion. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE   BLACK   HILLS. 

"XT  7E  travelled  eastward  for  two  days,  and  then  the 
*  *  gloomy  ridges  of  the  Black  Hills  rose  up  before 
us.  The  village  passed  along  for  some  miles  beneath 
their  declivities,  trailing  out  to  a  great  length  over  the 
arid  prairie,  or  winding  among  small  detached  hills  of 
distorted  shapes.  Turning  sharply  to  the  left,  we  entered 
a  wide  defile  of  the  mountains,  down  the  bottom  of  which 
a  brook  came  winding,  lined  with  tall  grass  and  dense 
copses,  amid  which  were  hidden  many  beaver-dams  and 
lodges.  We  passed  along  between  two  lines  of  high  pre- 
cipices and  rocks  piled  in  disorder  one  upon  another,  with 
scarcely  a  tree,  a  bush,  or  a  clump  of  grass.  The  restless 
Indian  boys  wandered  along  their  edges  and  clambered 
up  and  down  their  rugged  sides,  and  sometimes  a  group 
of  them  would  stand  on  the  verge  of  a  cliff  and  look  down 
on  the  procession  as  it  passed  beneath.  As  we  advanced, 
the  passage  grew  more  narrow ;  then  it  suddenly  expanded 
into  a  round  grassy  meadow,  completely  encompassed  by 
mountains ;  and  here  the  families  stopped  as  they  came 
up  in  turn,  and  the  camp  rose  like  magic. 

The  lodges  were  hardly  pitched  when,  with  their  usual 
precipitation,  the  Indians  set  about  accomplishing  the 
object  that  had  brought  them  there ;  that  is,  obtaining 
poles  for  their  new  lodges.  Half  the  population,  men, 
women,  and  boys,  mounted  their  horses  and  set  out  for 


248  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

the  depths  of  the  mountains.  It  was  a  strange  caval- 
cade, as  they  rode  at  full  gallop  over  the  shingly  rocks 
and  into  the  dark  opening  of  the  defile  beyond.  We 
passed  between  precipices,  sharp  and  splintering  at  the 
tops,  their  sides  beetling  over  the  defile  or  descending  in 
abrupt  declivities,  bristling  with  fir-trees.  On  our  left 
they  rose  close  to  us  like  a  wall,  but  on  the  right  a  winding 
brook  with  a  narrow  strip  of  marshy  soil  intervened.  The 
stream  was  clogged  with  old  beaver-dams,  and  spread 
frequently  into  wide  pools.  There  were  thick  bushes  and 
many  dead  and  blasted  trees  along  its  course,  though  fre- 
quently nothing  remained  but  stumps  cut  close  to  the 
ground  by  the  beaver,  and  marked  with  the  sharp  chisel- 
like  teeth  of  those  indefatigable  laborers.  Sometimes 
we  dived  among  trees,  and  then  emerged  upon  open 
spots,  over  which,  Indian-like,  all  galloped  at  full  speed. 
As  Pauline  bounded  over  the  rocks  I  felt  her  saddle-girth 
slipping,  and  alighted  to  draw  it  tighter;  when  the  whole 
cavalcade  swept  past  me  in  a  moment,  the  women  with 
their  gaudy  ornaments  tinkling  as  they  rode,  the  men 
whooping,  laughing,  and  lashing  forward  their  horses. 
Two  black-tailed  deer  bounded  away  among  the  rocks ; 
Raymond  shot  at  them  from  horseback ;  the  sharp  report 
of  his  rifle  was  answered  by  another  equally  sharp  from 
the  opposing  cliffs,  and  then  the  echoes,  leaping  in  rapid 
succession  from  side  to  side,  died  away  rattling  far  amid 
the  mountains. 

After  having  ridden  in  this  manner  six  or  eight  miles, 
the  scene  changed,  and  all  the  declivities  were  covered 
with  forests  of  tall,  slender  spruce-trees.  The  Indians 
began  to  fall  off  to  the  right  and  left,  dispersing  with 
their  hatchets  and  knives  to  cut  the  poles  which  they  had 
come  to  seek.  I  was  soon  left  almost  alone ;  but  in  the 
stillness  of  those  lonely  mountains,  the  stroke  of  hatchets 


THE   BLACK   HILLS.  249 

and  the  sound  of  voices  might  be  heard  from  far  and 
near. 

Reynal,  who  imitated  the  Indians  in  their  habits  as  well 
as  the  worst  features  of  their  character,  had  killed  buffalo 
enough  to  make  a  lodge  for  himself  and  his  squaw,  and 
now  he  was  eager  to  get  the  poles  necessary  to  complete 
it.  He  asked  me  to  let  Raymond  go  with  him,  and  assist 
in  the  work.  I  assented,  and  the  two  men  immediately 
entered  the  thickest  part  of  the  wood.  Having  left  my 
horse  in  Raymond's  keeping  I  began  to  climb  the  moun- 
tain. I  was  weak  and  weary,  and  made  slow  progress, 
often  pausing  to  rest,  but  after  an  hour,  I  gained  a  height 
whence  the  little  valley  out  of  which  I  had  climbed 
seemed  like  a  deep,  dark  gulf,  though  the  inaccessible 
peak  of  the  mountain  was  still  towering  to  a  much 
greater  distance  above.  Objects  familiar  from  childhood 
surrounded  me;  crags  and  rocks,  a  black  and  sullen 
brook  that  gurgled  with  a  hollow  voice  deep  among  the 
crevices,  a  wood  of  mossy  distorted  trees  and  prostrate 
trunks  flung  down  by  age  and  storms,  scattered  among 
the  rocks,  or  damming  the  foaming  waters  of  the  brook. 

Wild  as  they  were,  these  mountains  were  thickly  peo- 
pled. As  I  climbed  farther,  I  found  the  broad  dusty  paths 
made  by  the  elk,  as  they  filed  across  the  mountain  side. 
The  grass  on  all  the  terraces  was  trampled  down  by 
deer;  there  were  numerous  tracks  of  wolves,  and  in 
some  of  the  rougher  and  more  precipitous  parts  of  the 
ascent,  I  found  foot-prints  different  from  any  that  I  had 
ever  seen,  and  which  I  took  to  be  those  of  the  Rocky 
Mountain  sheep.  I  sat  down  upon  a  rock ;  there  was  a 
perfect  stillness.  No  wind  was  stirring,  and  not  even 
an  insect  could  be  heard.  I  remembered  the  danger  of 
becoming  lost  in  such  a  place,  and  fixed  my  eye  upon 
one  of  the  tallest  pinnacles  of  the  opposite  mountain.  It 


250  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

rose  sheer  upright  from  the  woods  below,  and,  by  an 
extraordinary  freak  of  nature,  sustained  aloft  on  its  very 
summit  a  large  loose  rock.  Such  a  landmark  could  never 
be  mistaken,  and  feeling  once  more  secure,  I  began  again 
to  move  forward.  A  white  wolf  jumped  up  from  among 
some  bushes,  and  leaped  clumsily  away ;  but  he  stopped 
for  a  moment,  and  turned  back  his  keen  eye  and  grim 
bristling  muzzle.  I  longed  to  take  his  scalp  and  carry  it 
back  with  me,  as  a  trophy  of  the  Black  Hills,  but  before 
I  could  fire,  he  was  gone  among  the  rocks.  Soon  after  I 
heard  a  rustling  sound,  with  a  cracking  of  twigs  at  a 
little  distance,  and  saw  moving  above  the  tall  bushes  the 
branching  antlers  of  an  elk.  I  was  in  the  midst  of  a 
hunter's  paradise. 

Such  are  the  Black  Hills,  as  I  found  them  in  July; 
but  they  wear  a  different  garb  when  winter  sets  in,  when 
the  broad  boughs  of  the  fir-trees  are  bent  to  the  ground 
by  the  load  of  snow,  and  the  dark  mountains  are  white 
with  it.  At  that  season  the  trappers,  returned  from  their 
autumn  expeditions,  often  build  their  cabins  in  the  midst 
of  these  solitudes,  and  live  in  abundance  and  luxury  on 
the  game  that  harbors  there.  I  have  heard  them  tell, 
how  with  their  tawny  mistresses,  and  perhaps  a  few 
young  Indian  companions,  they  had  spent  months  in  total 
seclusion.  They  would  dig  pitfalls,  and  set  traps  for  the 
white  wolves,  sables,  and  martens,  and  though  through 
the  whole  night  the  awful  chorus  of  the  wolves  would 
resound  from  the  frozen  mountains  around  them,  yet 
within  their  massive  walls  of  logs  they  would  lie  in  care- 
less ease  before  the  blazing  fire,  and  in  the  morning  shoot 
the  elk  and  deer  from  their  very  door. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  MOUNTAIN  HUNT. 

THE  camp  was  full  of  the  newly-cut  lodge-poles; 
some,  already  prepared,  were  stacked  together, 
white  and  glistening,  to  dry  and  harden  in  the  sun ;  others 
were  lying  on  the  ground,  and  the  squaws,  the  boys,  and 
even  some  of  the  warriors,  were  busily  at  work  peeling 
off  the  bark  and  paring  them  with  their  knives  to  the 
proper  dimensions.  Most  of  the  hides  obtained  at  the 
last  camp  were  dressed  and  scraped  thin  enough  for  use, 
and  many  of  the  squaws  were  engaged  in  fitting  them 
together  and  sewing  them  with  sinews,  to  form  the 
coverings  for  the  lodges.  Men  were  wandering  among 
the  bushes  that  lined  the  brook  along  the  margin  of  the 
camp,  cutting  sticks  of  red  willow,  or  sliongsasha,  the 
bark  of  which,  mixed  with  tobacco,  they  use  for  smok- 
ing. Reynal's  squaw  was  hard  at  work  with  her  awl 
and  buffalo  sinews  upon  her  lodge,  while  her  proprietor, 
having  just  finished  an  enormous  breakfast  of  meat,  was 
smoking  a  social  pipe  with  Raymond  and  myself.  He 
proposed  at  length  that  we  should  go  out  on  a  hunt. 
"Go  to  the  Big  Crow's  lodge,"  said  he,  "and  get  your 
rifle.  I'll  bet  the  gray  Wyandot  pony  against  your  mare 
that  we  start  an  elk  or  a  black-tailed  deer,  or  likely  as 
not,  a  big-horn  before  we  are  two  miles  out  of  camp.  I'll 
take  my  squaw's  old  yellow  horse ;  you  can't  whip  her 
more  than  four  miles  an  hour,  but  she  is  as  good  for  the 
mountains  as  a  mule." 


252  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

I  mounted  the  black  mule  which  Raymond  usually 
rode.  She  was  a  powerful  animal,  gentle  and  manage* 
able  enough  by  nature;  but  of  late  her  temper  had 
been  soured  by  misfortune.  About  a  week  before,  I  had 
chanced  to  offend  some  one  of  the  Indians,  who  out  of 
revenge  went  secretly  into  the  meadow  and  gave  her  a 
severe  stab  in  the  haunch  with  his  knife.  The  wound, 
though  partially  healed,  still  galled  her  extremely,  and 
made  her  even  more  perverse  and  obstinate  than  the  rest 
of  her  species. 

The  morning  was  a  glorious  one,  and  I  was  in  better 
health  than  I  had  been  at  any  time  for  the  last  two 
months.  We  left  the  little  valley  and  ascended  a  rocky 
hollow  in  the  mountain.  Very  soon  we  were  out  of  sight 
of  the  camp,  and  of  every  living  thing,  man,  beast,  bird, 
or  insect.  I  had  never  before,  except  on  foot,  passed 
over  such  execrable  ground,  and  I  desire  never  to  repeat 
the  experiment.  The  black  mule  grew  indignant,  and 
even  the  redoubtable  yellow  horse  stumbled  every  mo- 
ment, and  kept  groaning  to  himself  as  he  cut  his  feet 
and  legs  among  the  sharp  rocks. 

It  was  a  scene  of  silence  and  desolation.  Little  was 
visible  except  beetling  crags  and  the  bare  shingly  sides 
of  the  mountains,  relieved  by  scarcely  a  trace  of  vegeta- 
tion. At  length,  however,  we  came  upon  a  forest  tract, 
and  had  no  sooner  done  so  than  we  heartily  wished  our- 
selves back  among  the  rocks  again;  for  we  were  on  a 
steep  descent,  among  trees  so  thick  that  we  could  see 
scarcely  a  rod  in  any  direction. 

If  one  is  anxious  to  place  himself  in  a  situation  where 
the  hazardous  and  the  ludicrous  are  combined  in  about 
equal  proportions,  let  him  get  upon  a  vicious  mule,  with 
a  snaffle  bit,  and  try  to  drive  her  through  the  woods 
down  a  slope  of  forty-five  degrees.  Let  him  have  a  long 


A  MOUNTAIN   HUNT.  253 

rifle,  a  buckskin  frock  with  long  fringes,  and  a  head  of 
long  hair.  These  latter  appendages  will  be  caught  every 
moment  and  twitched  away  in  small  portions  by  the 
twigs,  which  will  also  whip  him  smartly  across  the  face, 
while  the  large  branches  above  thump  him  on  the  head. 
His  mule,  if  she  be  a  true  one,  will  alternately  stop  short 
and  dive  violently  forward,  and  his  positions  upon  her 
back  will  be  somewhat  diversified.  At  one  time  he  will 
clasp  her  affectionately,  to  avoid  the  blow  of  a  bough 
overhead;  at  another,  he  will  throw  himself  back  and 
fling  his  knee  forward  against  her  neck,  to  keep  it  from 
being  crushed  between  the  rough  bark  of  a  tree  and  the 
ribs  of  the  animal.  Reynal  was  cursing  incessantly  dur- 
ing the  whole  way  down.  Neither  of  us  had  the  re- 
motest idea  where  we  were  going;  and  though  I  have 
seen  rough  riding,  I  shall  always  retain  an  evil  recollec- 
tion of  that  five  minutes'  scramble. 

At  last  we  left  our  troubles  behind  us,  emerging  into 
the  channel  of  a  brook  that  circled  along  the  foot  of  the 
descent;  and  here,  turning  joyfully  to  the  left,  we  rode  at 
ease  over  the  white  pebbles  and  the  rippling  water,  shaded 
from  the  glaring  sun  by  an  overarching  green  trans- 
parency. These  halcyon  moments  were  of  short  dura- 
tion. The  friendly  brook,  turning  sharply  to  one  side, 
went  brawling  and  foaming  down  the  rocky  hill  into  an 
abyss,  which,  as  far  as  we  could  see,  had  no  bottom ;  so 
once  more  we  betook  ourselves  to  the  detested  woods. 
When  next  we  came  out  from  their  shadow  and  sun- 
light, we  found  ourselves  standing  in  the  broad  glare  of 
day,  on  a  high  jutting  point  of  the  mountain.  Before  us 
stretched  a  long,  wide,  desert  valley,  winding  away  far 
amid  the  mountains.  Reynal  gazed  intently;  he  began 
to  speak  at  last :  — 

"  Many  a  time,  when  I  was  with  the  Indians,  I  have 


254  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

been  hunting  for  gold  all  through  the  Black  Hills.  There's 
plenty  of  it  here ;  you  may  be  certain  of  that.  I  have 
dreamed  about  it  fifty  times,  and  I  never  dreamed  yet  but 
what  it  came  out  true.  Look  over  yonder  at  those  black 
rocks  piled  up  against  that  other  big  rock.  Don't  it  look 
as  if  there  might  be  something  there  ?  It  won't  do  for  a 
white  man  to  be  rummaging  too  much  about  these  moun- 
tains ;  the  Indians  say  they  are  full  of  bad  spirits ;  and  I 
believe  myself  that  it's  no  good  luck  to  be  hunting  about 
here  after  gold.  Well,  for  all  that,  I  would  like  to  have 
one  of  those  fellows  up  here,  from  down  below,  to  go 
about  with  his  witch-hazel  rod,  and  I'll  guarantee  that  it 
would  not  be  long  before  he  would  light  on  a  gold-mine. 
Never  mind;  we'll  let  the  gold  alone  for  to-day.  Look  at 
those  trees  down  below  us  in  the  hollow;  we'll  go  down 
there,  and  I  reckon  we'll  get  a  black-tailed  deer." 

But  Reynal's  predictions  were  not  verified.  We  passed 
mountain  after  mountain,  and  valley  after  valley ;  we  ex- 
plored deep  ravines;  yet  still,  to  my  companion's  vexa- 
tion and  evident  surprise,  no  game  could  be  found.  So, 
in  the  absence  of  better,  we  resolved  to  go  out  on  the 
plains  and  look  for  an  antelope.  With  this  view  we  began 
to  pass  down  a  narrow  valley,  the  bottom  of  which  was 
covered  with  the  stiff  wild-sage  bushes,  and  marked  with 
deep  paths,  made  by  the  buffalo,  who,  for  some  inexpli- 
cable reason,  are  accustomed  to  penetrate,  in  their  long 
grave  processions,  deep  among  the  gorges  of  these  sterile 
mountains. 

Reynal's  eye  ranged  incessantly  among  the  rocks  and 
along  the  edges  of  the  precipices,  in  hopes  of  discovering 
the  mountain-sheep  peering  down  upon  us  from  that  giddy 
elevation.  Nothing  was  visible  for  some  time.  At  length 
we  both  detected  something  in  motion  near  the  foot  of  one 
of  the  mountains,  and  a  moment  afterward  a  black-tailed 


A   MOUNTAIN   HUNT.  255 

deer  stood  gazing  at  us  from  the  top  of  a  rock,  and  then, 
slowly  turning  away,  disappeared  behind  it.  In  an  instant 
Reynal  was  out  of  his  saddle,  and  running  towards  the 
spot.  I,  being  too  weak  to  follow,  sat  holding  his  horse 
and  waiting  the  result.  I  lost  sight  of  him ;  then  heard 
the  report  of  his  rifle  deadened  among  the  rocks,  and 
finally  saw  him  reappear,  with  a  surly  look,  that  plainly 
betrayed  his  ill  success.  Again  we  moved  forward  down 
the  long  valley,  when  soon  after  we  came  full  upon  what 
seemed  a  wide  and  very  shallow  ditch,  incrusted  at  the 
bottom  with  white  clay,  dried  and  cracked  in  the  sun. 
Under  this  fair  outside  Reynal' s  eye  detected  the  signs 
of  lurking  mischief.  He  called  to  me  to  stop,  and  then 
alighting,  picked  up  a  stone  and  threw  it  into  the  ditch. 
To  my  amazement  it  fell  with  a  dull  splash,  breaking  at 
once  through  the  thin  crust,  and  spattering  round  the  hole 
a  yellowish  creamy  fluid,  into  which  it  sank  and  disap- 
peared. A  stick,  five  or  six  feet  long,  lay  on  the  ground, 
and  with  this  we  sounded  the  insidious  abyss  close  to  its 
edge.  It  was  just  possible  to  touch  the  bottom.  Places 
like  this  are  numerous  among  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
The  buffalo,  in  his  blind  and  heedless  walk,  often  plunges 
into  them  unawares.  Down  he  sinks ;  one  snort  of  terror, 
one  convulsive  struggle,  and  the  slime  calmly  flows  above 
his  shaggy  head,  the  languid  undulations  of  its  sleek  and 
placid  surface  alone  betraying  how  the  powerful  monster 
writhes  in  his  death-throes  below. 

We  found  after  some  trouble  a  point  where  we  could 
pass  the  abyss,  and  now  the  valley  began  to  open  upon 
plains  which  spread  to  the  horizon  before  us.  On  one 
of  their  distant  swells  we  discerned  three  or  four  black 
specks,  which  Reynal  pronounced  to  be  buffalo. 

"Come,"  said  he,  "we  must  get  one  of  them.  My 
squaw  wants  more  sinews  to  finish  her  lodge  with,  and  I 
want  some  glue  myself." 


256  THE    OREGON   TEAIL. 

He  immediately  put  the  yellow  horse  to  such  a  gallop 
as  he  was  capable  of  executing,  while  I  set  spurs  to  the 
mule,  who  soon  far  outran  her  plebeian  rival.  When  we 
had  galloped  a  mile  or  more,  a  large  rabbit,  by  ill-luck, 
sprang  up  just  under  the  feet  of  the  mule,  who  bounded 
violently  aside  in  full  career.  Weakened  as  I  was,  I  was 
flung  forcibly  to  the  ground,  and  my  rifle,  falling  close  to 
my  head,  went  off  with  the  shock.  Its  sharp,  spiteful 
report  rang  for  some  moments  in  my  ear.  Being  slightly 
stunned,  I  lay  for  an  instant  motionless,  and  Reynal,  sup- 
posing me  to  be  shot,  rode  up  and  began  to  curse  the  mule. 
Soon  recovering  myself,  I  arose,  picked  up  the  rifle  and 
anxiously  examined  it.  It  was  badly  injured.  The  stock 
was  cracked,  and  the  main  screw  broken,  so  that  the  lock 
had  to  be  tied  in  its  place  with  a  string ;  yet  happily  it 
was  not  rendered  totally  unserviceable.  I  wiped  it  out, 
reloaded  it,  and  handing  it  to  Reynal,  who  meanwhile  had 
caught  the  mule  and  led  her  up  to  me,  I  mounted  again. 
No  sooner  had  I  done  so,  than  the  brute  began  to  rear 
and  plunge  with  extreme  violence ;  but  being  now  well 
prepared  for  her,  and  free  from  incumbrance,  I  soon  re- 
duced her  to  submission.  Then  taking  the  rifle  again 
from  Reynal,  we  galloped  forward  as  before. 

We  were  now  free  of  the  mountains  and  riding  far  oul 
on  the  broad  prairie.  The  buffalo  were  still  some  two 
miles  in  advance  of  us.  When  we  came  near  them,  we 
stopped  where  a  gentle  swell  of  the  plain  concealed  us, 
and  while  I  held  his  horse  Reynal  ran  forward  with  his 
rifle,  till  I  lost  sight  of  him  beyond  the  rising  ground. 
A  few  minutes  elapsed:  I  heard  the  report  of  his  piece, 
and  saw  the  buffalo  running  away,  at  full  speed  on  the 
right ;  immediately  after,  the  hunter  himself,  unsuccessful 
as  before,  came  up  and  mounted  his  horse  in  excessive 
ill-humor.  He  cursed  the  Black  Hills  and  the  buffalo, 


A   MOUNTAIN   HUNT.  257 

swore  that  lie  was  a  good  hunter,  which  indeed  was  true, 
and  that  he  had  never  been  out  before  among  those  moun- 
tains without  killing  two  or  three  deer  at  least. 

We  now  turned  towards  the  distant  encampment.  As 
we  rode  along,  antelope  in  considerable  numbers  were 
flying  lightly  in  all  directions  over  the  plain,  but  not  one 
of  them  would  stand  and  be  shot  at.  When  we  reached 
the  foot  of  the  mountain -ridge  that  lay  between  us  and 
the  village,  we  T.vere  too  impatient  to  take  the  smooth  and 
circuitous  route ;  so  turning  short  to  the  left,  we  drove 
our  wearied  animals  upward  among  the  rocks.  Still  more 
antelope  were  leaping  about  among  these  flinty  hill-sides. 
Each  of  us  shot  at  one,  though  from  a  great  distance, 
and  each  missed  his  mark.  At  length  we  reached  the 
summit  of  the  last  ridge.  Looking  down  we  saw  the 
bustling  camp  in  the  valley  at  our  feet,  and  ingloriously 
descended  to  it.  As  we  rode  among  the  lodges,  the 
Indians  looked  in  vain  for  the  fresh  meat  that  should 
have  hung  behind  our  saddles,  and  the  squaws  uttered 
various  suppressed  ejaculations,  to  the  great  indignation 
of  Reynal.  Our  mortification  was  increased  when  we 
rode  up  to  his  lodge.  Here  we  saw  his  young  Indian 
relative,  the  Hail-Storm,  his  light  graceful  figure  reclin- 
ing on  the  ground  in  an  easy  attitude,  while  with  his 
friend  The  Rabbit,  who  sat  by  his  side,  he  was  making  an 
abundant  meal  from  a  wooden  bowl  of  wasna,  which  the 
squaw  had  placed  between  them.  Near  him  lay  the  fresh 
skin  of  a  female  elk,  which  he  had  just  killed  among  the 
mountains,  only  a  mile  or  two  from  the  camp.  No  doubt 
the  boy's  heart  was  elated  with  triumph,  but  he  betrayed 
no  sign  of  it.  He  even  seemed  totally  unconscious  of 
our  approach,  and  his  handsome  face  had  all  the  tran- 
quillity of  Indian  self-control ;  a  self-control  which  pre- 
vents the  exhibition  of  emotion  without  restraining  tha 

17 


258  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

emotion  itself.  It  was  about  two  months  since  I  had 
known  the  Hail-Storm,  and  within  that  time  his  charac- 
ter had  remarkably  developed.  When  I  first  saw  him, 
he  was  just  emerging  from  the  habits  and  feelings  of  the 
boy  into  the  ambition  of  the  hunter  and  warrior.  He 
had  lately  killed  his  first  deer,  and  this  had  excited  his 
aspirations  for  distinction.  Since  that  time  he  had  been 
continually  in  search  of  game,  and  no  young  hunter  in 
the  village  had  been  so  active  or  so  fortunate  as  he.  All 
this  success  had  produced  a  marked  change  in  his  char- 
acter. As  I  first  remembered  him  he  always  shunned 
the  society  of  the  young  squaws,  and  was  extremely  bash- 
ful and  sheepish  in  their  presence ;  but  now,  in  the  con- 
fidence of  his  new  reputation,  he  began  to  assume  the 
airs  and  arts  of  a  man  of  gallantry.  He  wore  his  red 
blanket  dashingly  over  his  left  shoulder,  painted  his 
cheeks  every  day  with  vermilion,  and  hung  pendants  of 
shells  in  his  ears.  If  I  observed  aright,  he  met  with 
very  good  success  in  his  new  pursuits ;  still  the  Hail- 
Storm  had  much  to  accomplish  before  he  attained  the  full 
standing  of  a  warrior.  Gallantly  as  he  began  to  bear 
himself  among  the  women  and  girls,  he  was  still  timid 
and  abashed  in  the  presence  of  the  chiefs  and  old  men ; 
for  he  had  never  yet  killed  a  man,  or  stricken  the  dead 
body  of  an  enemy  in  battle.  I  have  no  doubt  that  the 
handsome,  smooth-faced  boy  burned  with  desire  to  flesh 
his  maiden  scalping-knife,  and  I  would  not  have  en- 
camped alone  with  him  without  watching  his  movements 
with  a  suspicious  eye. 

His  elder  brother,  The  Horse,  was  of  a  different  char- 
acter. He  was  nothing  but  a  lazy  dandy.  He  knew 
very  well  how  to  hunt,  but  preferred  to  live  by  the  hunt- 
ing of  others.  He  had  no  appetite  for  distinction,  and 
the  Hail-Storm  already  surpassed  him  in  reputation.  He 


A   MOUNTAIN   HUNT.  259 

had  a  dark  and  ugly  face,  and  passed  a  great  part  of  his 
time  in  adorning  it  with  vermilion,  and  contemplating 
it  by  means  of  a  little  pocket  looking-glass  which  I  had 
given  him.  As  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  he  divided  it  be- 
tween eating,  sleeping,  and  sitting  in  the  sun  on  the  out- 
side of  a  lodge.  Here  he  would  remain  for  hour  after 
hour,  arrayed  in  all  his  finery,  with  an  old  dragoon's 
sword  in  his  hand,  evidently  flattering  himself  that  he 
was  the  centre  of  attraction  to  the  eyes  of  the  surround- 
ing squaws.  Yet  he  sat  looking  straight  forward  with  a 
face  of  the  utmost  gravity,  as  if  wrapped  in  profound 
meditation,  and  it  was  only  by  the  occasional  sidelong 
glances  which  he  shot  at  his  supposed  admirers  that  one 
could  detect  the  true  course  of  his  thoughts. 

Both  he  and  his  brother  may  represent  classes  in  the 
Indian  community:  neither  should  the  Hail-Storm's 
friend,  The  Rabbit,  be  passed  by  without  notice.  The 
Hail-Storm  and  he  were  inseparable :  they  ate,  slept,  and 
hunted  together,  and  shared  with  one  another  almost  all 
that  they  possessed.  If  there  be  any  thing  that  deserves 
to  be  called  romantic  in  the  Indian  character,  it  is  to  be 
sought  for  in  friendships  such  as  this,  which  are  common 
among  many  of  the  prairie  tribes. 

Slowly,  hour  after  hour,  that  weary  afternoon  dragged 
away.  I  lay  in  Reynal's  lodge,  overcome  by  the  listless 
torpor  that  pervaded  the  encampment.  The  day's  work 
was  finished,  or  if  it  were  not,  the  inhabitants  had  re- 
solved not  to  finish  it  at  all,  and  were  dozing  quietly 
within  the  shelter  of  the  lodges.  A  profound  lethargy, 
the  very  spirit  of  indolence,  seemed  to  have  sunk  upon 
the  village.  Now  and  then  I  could  hear  the  low  laughter 
of  some  girl  from  within  a  neighboring  lodge,  or  the  small 
shrill  voices  of  a  few  restless  children,  who  alone  were 
moving  in  the  deserted  area.  The  spirit  of  the  place 


260  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

infected  me ;  I  could  not  think  consecutively,  I  was  fit 
only  for  musing  and  reverie,  when  at  last,  like  the  rest, 
I  fell  asleep. 

When  evening  came,  and  the  fires  were  lighted  round 
the  lodges,  a  select  family  circle  convened  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Reynal's  domicile.  It  was  composed  entirely 
of  his  squaw's  relatives,  a  mean  and  ignoble  clan,  among 
whom  none  but  the  Hail-Storm  held  forth  any  promise  of 
future  distinction.  Even  his  prospects  were  rendered  not 
a  little  dubious  by  the  character  of  the  family,  less  how- 
ever from  any  principle  of  aristocratic  distinction  than 
from  the  want  of  powerful  supporters  to  assist  him  in  his 
undertakings,  and  help  to  avenge  his  quarrels.  Raymond 
and  I  sat  down  along  with  them.  There  were  eight  or 
ten  men  gathered  around  the  fire,  together  with  about  as 
many  women,  old  and  young,  some  of  whom  were  toler- 
ably good-looking.  As  the  pipe  passed  round  among  the 
men,  a  lively  conversation  went  forward,  more  merry  than 
delicate,  and  at  length  two  or  three  of  the  elder  women 
(for  the  girls  were  somewhat  diffident  and  bashful)  began 
to  assail  Raymond  with  various  pungent  witticisms. 
Some  of  the  men  took  part,  and  an  old  squaw  concluded 
by  bestowing  on  him  a  ludicrous  and  indecent  nickname, 
at  which  a  general  laugh  followed  at  his  expense.  Ray- 
mond grinned  and  giggled,  and  made  several  futile  at- 
tempts at  repartee.  Knowing  the  impolicy  and  even 
danger  of  suffering  myself  to  be  placed  in  a  ludicrous 
light  among  the  Indians,  I  maintained  a  rigid  inflexible 
countenance,  and  wholly  escaped  their  sallies. 

In  the  morning  I  found,  to  my  great  disgust,  that  the 
camp  was  to  retain  its  position  for  another  day.  I  dreaded 
its  languor  and  monotony,  and,  to  escape  it,  set  out  to  ex- 
plore the  surrounding  mountains.  I  was  accompanied  by 
a  faithful  friend,  my  rifle,  the  only  friend  indeed  on  whose 


A  MOUNTAIN   HUNT.  261 

prompt  assistance  in  time  of  trouble  I  could  wholly  rely. 
Most  of  the  Indians  in  the  village,  it  is  true,  professed 
good- will  towards  the  whites,  but  the  experience  of  others 
and  my  own  observation  had  taught  me  the  extreme  folly 
of  confidence,  and  the  utter  impossibility  of  foreseeing  to 
what  sudden  acts  the  strange  unbridled  impulses  of  an 
Indian  may  urge  him.  When  among  this  people  danger 
is  never  so  near  as  when  you  are  unprepared  for  it,  never 
so  remote  as  when  you  are  armed  and  on  the  alert  to  meet 
it  at  any  moment.  Nothing  offers  so  strong  a  temptation 
to  their  ferocious  instincts  as  the  appearance  of  timidity, 
weakness,  or  security. 

Many  deep  and  gloomy  gorges,  choked  with  trees  and 
bushes,  opened  from  the  sides  of  the  hills,  which  were 
shaggy  with  forests  wherever  the  rocks  permitted  vegeta- 
tion to  spring.  A  great  number  of  Indians  were  stalking 
along  the  edges  of  the  woods,  and  boys  were  whooping 
and  laughing  on  the  mountains,  practising  eye  and  hand, 
and  indulging  their  destructive  propensities  by  killing 
birds  and  small  animals  with  their  little  bows  and  arrows. 
There  was  one  glen,  stretching  up  between  steep  cliffs  far 
into  the  bosom  of  the  mountain.  I  began  to  ascend  along 
its  bottom,  pushing  my  way  onward  among  the  rocks, 
trees,  and  bushes  that  obstructed  it.  A  slender  thread 
of  water  trickled  through  it,  which  since  issuing  from  the 
heart  of  its  native  rock  could  scarcely  have  been  warmed 
or  gladdened  by  a  ray  of  sunshine.  After  advancing  for 
some  time,  I  conceived  myself  to  be  entirely  alone ;  but 
coming  to  a  part  of  the  glen  in  a  great  measure  free  of 
trees  and  undergrowth,  I  saw  at  some  distance  the  black 
head  and  red  shoulders  of  an  Indian  among  the  bushes 
above.  The  reader  need  not  prepare  himself  for  a  start- 
ling adventure,  for  I  have  none  to  relate.  The  head  and 
shoulders  belonged  to  Mene-Seela,  my  best  friend  in  the 


262  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

village.  As  I  had  approached  noiselessly  with  my  moc- 
casined  feet,  the  old  man  was  quite  unconscious  of  my 
presence ;  and  turning  to  a  point  where  I  could  gain  an 
unobstructed  view  of  him,  I  saw  him  seated  alone,  im- 
movable as  a  statue,  among  the  rocks  and  trees.  His 
face  was  turned  upward,  and  his  eyes  seemed  riveted  on 
a  pine-tree  springing  from  a  cleft  in  the  precipice  above. 
The  crest  of  the  pine  was  swaying  to  and  fro  in  the  wind, 
and  its  long  limbs  waved  slowly  up  and  down,  as  if  the 
tree  had  life.  Looking  for  a  while  at  the  old  man,  I  was 
satisfied  that  he  was  engaged  in  an  act  of  worship,  or 
prayer,  or  communion  of  some  kind  with  a  supernatural 
being.  I  longed  to  penetrate  his  thoughts,  but  I  could  do 
nothing  more  than  conjecture  and  speculate.  I  knew 
that  though  the  intellect  of  an  Indian  can  embrace  the 
idea  of  an  all-wise,  all-powerful  Spirit,  the  supreme  Ruler 
of  the  universe,  yet  his  mind  will  not  always  ascend  into 
communion  with  a  being  that  seems  to  him  so  vast,  re- 
mote, and  incomprehensible ;  and  when  danger  threatens, 
when  his  hopes  are  broken,  and  trouble  overshadows  him, 
he  is  prone  to  turn  for  relief  to  some  inferior  agency,  less 
removed  from  the  ordinary  scope  of  his  faculties.  He 
has  a  guardian  spirit,  on  whom  he  relies  for  succor  and 
guidance.  To  him  all  nature  is  instinct  with  mystic  in- 
fluence. Among  those  mountains  not  a  wild  beast  was 
prowling,  a  bird  singing,  or  a  leaf  fluttering,  that  might 
not  tend  to  direct  his  destiny,  or  give  warning  of  what 
was  in  store  for  him ;  and  he  watches  the  world  of  nature 
around  him  as  the  astrologer  watches  the  stars.  So 
closely  is  he  linked  with  it,  that  his  guardian  spirit,  no 
unsubstantial  creation  of  the  fancy,  is  usually  embodied 
in  the  form  of  some  living  thing :  a  bear,  a  wolf,  an  eagle, 
or  a  serpent;  and  Mene-Seela,  as  he  gazed  intently  on  the 
old  pine-tree,  might  believe  it  to  inshrine  the  fancied 
guide  and  protector  of  his  life. 


A   MOUNTAIN   HUNT.  268 

Whatever  was  passing  in  the  mind  of  the  old  man,  it 
was  no  part  of  good  sense  to  disturb  him.  Silently  retrac- 
ing my  footsteps,  I  descended  the  glen  until  I  came  to  a 
point  where  I  could  climb  the  precipices  that  shut  it  in, 
and  gain  the  side  of  the  mountain.  Looking  up,  I  saw  a 
tall  peak  rising  among  the  woods.  Something  impelled 
me  to  climb ;  I  had  not  felt  for  many  a  day  such  strength 
and  elasticity  of  limb.  An  hour  and  a  half  of  slow  and 
often  intermitted  labor  brought  me  to  the  very  summit; 
and  emerging  from  the  dark  shadows  of  the  rocks  and 
pines,  I  stepped  forth  into  the  light,  and  walking  along 
the  sunny  verge  of  a  precipice,  seated  myself  on  its 
extreme  point.  Looking  between  the  mountain -peaks  to 
the  westward,  the  pale  blue  prairie  was  stretching  to  the 
farthest  horizon,  like  a  serene  and  tranquil  ocean.  The 
surrounding  mountains  were  in  themselves  sufficiently 
striking  and  impressive,  but  this  contrast  gave  redoubled 
effect  to  their  stern  features. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

PASSAGE  OP  THE  MOUNTAINS. 

WHEN  I  took  leave  of  Shaw  at  La  Bonte*'s  camp,  I 
promised  to  meet  him  at  Fort  Laramie  on  the 
first  of  August.  The  Indians,  too,  intended  to  pass  the 
mountains  and  move  towards  the  fort.  To  do  so  at  this 
point  was  impossible,  because  there  was  no  passage ;  and 
in  order  to  find  one  we  were  obliged  to  go  twelve  or  four- 
teen miles  southward.  Late  in  the  afternoon  the  camp 
got  in  motion.  I  rode  in  company  with  three  or  foui 
young  Indians  at  the  rear,  and  the  moving  swarm  stretched 
before  me,  in  the  ruddy  light  of  sunset,  or  the  deep  shadow 
of  the  mountains,  far  beyond  my  sight.  It  was  an  ill- 
omened  spot  they  chose  to  encamp  upon.  When  they 
were  there  just  a  year  before,  a  war-party  of  ten  men,  led 
by  The  Whirlwind's  son,  had  gone  out  against  the  enemy, 
and  not  one  had  ever  returned.  This  was  the  immediate 
cause  of  this  season's  warlike  preparations.  I  was  not  a 
little  astonished,  when  I  came  to  the  camp,  at  the  con- 
fusion of  horrible  sounds  with  which  it  was  filled;  howls, 
shrieks,  and  wailings  rose  from  all  the  women  present, 
many  of  whom,  not  content  with  this  exhibition  of  grief 
for  the  loss  of  their  friends  and  relatives,  were  gashing 
their  legs  deeply  with  knives.  A  warrior  in  the  village, 
who  had  lost  a  brother  in  the  expedition,  chose  another 
mode  of  displaying  his  sorrow.  The  Indians,  who  though 
often  rapacious,  are  devoid  of  avarice,  will  sometimes, 


PASSAGE    OF   THE   MOUNTAINS.  265 

when  in  mourning,  or  on  other  solemn  occasions,  give 
away  the  whole  of  their  possessions,  and  reduce  them- 
selves to  nakedness  and  want.  The  warrior  in  question 
led  his  two  hest  horses  into  the  middle  of  the  village, 
and  gave  them  away  to  his  friends ;  upon  which,  songs 
and  acclamations  in  praise  of  his  generosity  mingled  with 
the  cries  of  the  women. 

On  the  next  morning  we  entered  again  among  the 
mountains.  There  was  nothing  in  their  appearance  either 
grand  or  picturesque,  though  they  were  desolate  to  the  last 
degree,  being  mere  piles  of  hlack  and  broken  rocks,  with- 
out trees  or  vegetation  of  any  kind.  As  we  passed  among 
them  along  a  wide  valley,  I  noticed  Raymond  riding  by 
the  side  of  a  young  squaw,  to  whom  he  was  addressing 
various  compliments.  All  the  old  squaws  in  the  neighbor- 
hood watched  his  proceedings  in  great  admiration,  and 
the  girl  herself  would  turn  aside  her  head  and  laugh. 
Just  then  his  mule  thought  proper  to  display  her  vicious 
pranks,  and  began  to  rear  and  plunge  most  furiously. 
Raymond  was  an  excellent  rider,  and  at  first  he  stuck  fast 
in  his  seat;  but  the  moment  after,  I  saw  the  mule's  hind- 
legs  flourishing  in  the  air,  and  my  unlucky  follower 
pitching  head  foremost  over  her  ears.  There  was  a  burst 
of  screams  and  laughter  from  all  the  women,  in  which 
his  mistress  herself  took  part,  and  Raymond  was  assailed 
by  such  a  shower  of  witticisms,  that  he  was  glad  to  ride 
forward  out  of  hearing. 

Not  long  after,  as  I  rode  near  him,  I  heard  him  shout- 
ing to  me.  He  was  pointing  towards  a  detached  rocky 
hill  that  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  valley  before  us,  and 
from  behind  it  a  long  file  of  elk  came  out  at  full  speed 
and  entered  an  opening  in  the  mountain.  They  had 
scarcely  disappeared,  when  whoops  and  exclamations 
came  from  fifty  voices  around  me.  The  young  men 


266  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

leaped  from  their  horses,  flung  down  their  heavy  buffalo- 
robes,  and  ran  at  full  speed  towards  the  foot  of  the  near- 
est mountain.  Reynal  also  broke  away  at  a  gallop  in  the 
same  direction.  " Come  on!  come  on!  "  he  called  to  us. 
"Do  you  see  that  band  of  big-horn  up  yonder ?  If  there's 
one  of  them,  there's  a  hundred!  " 

In  fact,  near  the  summit  of  the  mountain,  I  could  see 
a  large  number  of  small  white  objects,  moving  rapidly  up- 
wards among  the  precipices,  while  others  were  filing  along 
its  rocky  profile.  Anxious  to  see  the  sport,  I  galloped  for- 
ward, and  entering  a  passage  in  the  side  of  the  mountain, 
ascended  among  the  loose  rocks  as  far  as  my  horse  could 
carry  me.  Here  I  fastened  her  to  an  old  pine-tree.  At 
that  moment  Raymond  called  to  me  from  the  right  that 
another  band  of  sheep  was  close  at  hand  in  that  direction. 
I  ran  up  to  the  top  of  the  opening,  which  gave  me  a  full 
view  into  the  rocky  gorge  beyond ;  and  here  I  plainly  saw 
some  fifty  or  sixty  sheep,  almost  within  rifle-shot,  clat- 
tering upwards  among  the  rocks,  and  endeavoring,  after 
their  usual  custom,  to  reach  the  highest  point.  The  naked 
Indians  bounded  up  lightly  in  pursuit.  In  a  moment  the 
game  and  hunters  disappeared.  Nothing  could  be  seen 
or  heard  but  the  occasional  report  of  a  gun,  more  and 
more  distant,  reverberating  among  the  rocks. 

I  turned  to  descend,  and  as  I  did  so,  could  see  the  valley 
below  alive  with  Indians  passing  rapidly  through  it,  on 
horseback  and  on  foot.  A  little  farther  on,  all  were  stop- 
ping as  they  came  up ;  the  camp  was  preparing  and  the 
lodges  rising.  I  descended  to  this  spot,  and  soon  after 
Reynal  and  Raymond  returned.  They  bore  between  them 
a  sheep  which  they  had  pelted  to  death  with  stones  from 
the  edge  of  a  ravine,  along  the  bottom  of  which  it  was 
attempting  to  escape.  One  by  one  the  hunters  came  drop- 
ping in;  yet  such  is  the  activity  of  the  Rocky  Mountain 


PASSAGE    OF    THE    MOUNTAINS.  26? 

sheep  that  although  sixty  or  seventy  men  were  out  in 
pursuit,  not  more  than  half  a  dozen  animals  were  killed. 
Of  these  only  one  was  a  full-grown  male.  He  had  a  pair 
of  horns,  the  dimensions  of  which  were  almost  beyond 
belief.  I  have  seen  among  the  Indians  ladles  with  long 
handles,  capable  of  containing  more  than  a  quart,  cut  out 
from  such  horns. 

Through  the  whole  of  the  next  morning  we  were  mov- 
ing forward  among  the  hills.  On  the  following  day  the 
heights  closed  around  us,  and  the  passage  of  the  mountains 
began  in  earnest.  Before  the  village  left  its  'camping- 
ground,  I  set  forward  in  company  with  the  Eagle -Feather, 
a  man  of  powerful  frame,  but  with  a  bad  and  sinister  face. 
His  son,  a  light-limbed  boy,  rode  with  us,  and  another 
Indian,  named  The  Panther,  was  also  of  the  party.  Leav- 
ing the  village  out  of  sight  behind  us,  we  rode  together 
up  a  rocky  defile.  After  a  while,  however,  the  Eagle- 
Feather  discovered  in  the  distance  some  appearance  of 
game,  and  set  off  with  his  son  in  pursuit  of  it,  while  I 
went  forward  with  The  Panther.  This  was  a  mere  nom 
de  guerre  ;  for,  like  many  Indians,  he  concealed  his  real 
name  out  of  some  superstitious  notion.  He  was  a  noble- 
looking  fellow.  As  he  suffered  his  ornamented  buffalo- 
robe  to  fall  in  folds  about  his  loins,  his  stately  and 
graceful  figure  was  fully  displayed ;  and  while  he  sat  his 
horse  in  an  easy  attitude,  the  long  feathers  of  the  prairie- 
cock  fluttering  from  the  crown  of  his  head,  he  seemed  the 
very  model  of  a  wild  prairie -rider.  He  had  not  the  same 
features  with  those  of  other  Indians.  Unless  his  face 
greatly  belied  him,  he  was  free  from  the  jealousy,  suspi- 
cion, and  malignant  cunning  of  his  people.  For  the  most 
part,  a  civilized  white  man  can  discover  very  few  points 
of  sympathy  between  his  own  nature  and  that  of  an  In- 
dian. With  every  disposition  to  do  justice  to  their  good 


268  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

qualities,  lie  must  be  conscious  that  an  impassable  guli 
lies  between  him  and  his  red  brethren.  Nay,  so  alien  to 
himself  do  they  appear,  that,  after  breathing  the  air  of 
the  prairie  for  a  few  months  or  weeks,  he  begins  to  look 
upon  them  as  a  troublesome  and  dangerous  species  of  wild 
beast.  Yet,  in  the  countenance  of  The  Panther,  I  gladly 
read  that  there  were  at  least  some  points  of  sympathy  be- 
tween him  and  me.  We  were  excellent  friends,  and  as 
we  rode  forward  together  through  rocky  passages,  deep 
dells,  and  little  barren  plains,  he  occupied  himself  very 
zealously  in  teaching  me  the  Dahcotah  language.  After 
a  while,  we  came  to  a  grassy  recess,  where  some  goose- 
berry-bushes were  growing  at  the  foot  of  a  rock:  and 
these  offered  such  temptation  to  my  companion,  that  he 
gave  over  his  instructions,  and  stopped  so  long  to  gather 
the  fruit,  that  before  we  were  in  motion  again  the  van 
of  the  village  came  in  view.  An  old  woman  appeared, 
leading  down  her  pack-horse  among  the  rocks  above. 
Savage  after  savage  followed,  and  the  little  dell  was 
soon  crowded  with  the  throng. 

That  morning's  march  was  one  not  to  be  forgotten. 
It  led  us  through  a  sublime  waste,  a  wilderness  of  moun- 
tains and  pine-forests,  over  which  the  spirit  of  loneliness 
and  silence  seemed  brooding.  Above  and  below,  little 
could  be  seen  but  the  same  dark  green  foliage.  It  over- 
spread the  valleys,  and  enveloped  the  mountains,  from 
the  black  rocks  that  crowned  their  summits  to  the 
streams  that  circled  round  their  base.  I  rode  to  the  top 
of  a  hill  whence  I  could  look  down  on  the  savage  proces- 
sion as  it  passed  beneath  my  feet,  and,  far  on  the  left, 
could  see  its  thin  and  broken  line,  visible  only  at  inter- 
vals, stretching  away  for  miles  among  the  mountains. 
On  the  farthest  ridge,  horsemen  were  still  descending  like 
mere  specks  in  the  distance. 


PASSAGE    OF   THE   MOUNTAINS.  269 

I  remained  on  the  hill  until  all  had  passed,  and  then 
descending  followed  after  them.  A  little  farther  on  I 
found  a  very  small  meadow,  set  deeply  among  steep 
mountains;  and  here  the  whole  village  had  encamped. 
The  little  spot  was  crowded  with  the  confused  and  dis- 
orderly host.  Some  of  the  lodges  were  already  set  up,  or 
the  squaws  perhaps  were  busy  in  drawing  the  heavy  cov- 
erings of  skin  over  the  bare  poles.  Others  were  as  yet 
mere  skeletons,  while  others  still,  poles,  covering,  and  all, 
lay  scattered  in  disorder  on  the  ground  among  buffalo  - 
robes,  bales  of  meat,  domestic  utensils,  harness,  and 
weapons.  Squaws  were  screaming  to  one  another,  horses 
rearing  and  plunging,  dogs  yelping,  eager  to  be  disbur- 
dened of  their  loads,  while  the  fluttering  of  feathers  and 
the  gleam  of  savage  ornaments  added  liveliness  to  the 
scene.  The  small  children  ran  about  amid  the  crowd,  while 
many  of  the  boys  were  scrambling  among  the  overhang- 
ing rocks,  and  standing  with  their  little  bows  in  their 
hands,  looking  down  upon  the  restless  throng.  In  con- 
trast with  the  general  confusion,  a  circle  of  old  men  and 
warriors  sat  in  the  midst,  smoking  in  profound  indifference 
and  tranquillity.  The  disorder  at  length  subsided.  The 
horses  were  driven  away  to  feed  along  the  adjacent  val- 
ley, and  the  camp  assumed  an  air  of  listless  repose.  It 
was  scarcely  past  noon;  avast  white  canopy  of  smoke 
from  a  burning  forest  to  the  eastward  overhung  the  place, 
and  partially  obscured  the  rays  of  the  sun ;  yet  the  heat 
was  almost  insupportable.  The  lodges  stood  crowded 
together  without  order  in  the  narrow  space.  Each  was  a 
hot-house,  within  which  the  lazy  proprietor  lay  sleeping. 
The  camp  was  silent  as  death.  Nothing  stirred  except 
now  and  then  an  old  woman  passing  from  lodge  to  lodge. 
The  girls  and  young  men  sat  together  in  groups,  under 
the  pine-trees  upon  the  surrounding  heights.  The  dogs 


270  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

lay  panting  on  the  ground,  too  languid  even  to  growl  at 
the  white  man.  At  the  entrance  of  the  meadow,  there 
was  a  cold  spring  among  the  rocks,  completely  over- 
shadowed by  tall  trees  and  dense  undergrowth.  In  this 
cool  and  shady  retreat  a  number  of  girls  were  assembled, 
sitting  together  on  rocks  and  fallen  logs,  discussing  the 
latest  gossip  of  the  village,  or  laughing  and  throwing 
water  with  their  hands  at  the  intruding  Meneaska.  The 
minutes  seemed  lengthened  into  hours.  I  lay  for  a  long 
time  under  a  tree  studying  the  Ogillallah  tongue,  with  the 
aid  of  my  friend  The  Panther.  When  we  were  both  tired 
of  this,  I  lay  down  by  the  side  of  a  deep,  clear  pool, 
formed  by  the  water  of  the  spring.  A  shoal  of  little 
fishes  of  about  a  pin's  length  were  playing  in  it,  sporting 
together,  as  it  seemed,  very  amicably ;  but  on  closer  ob- 
servation, I  saw  that  they  were  engaged  in  cannibal  war- 
fare among  themselves.  Now  and  then  one  of  the  smallest 
would  fall  a  victim,  and  immediately  disappear  down  the 
maw  of  his  conqueror.  Every  moment,  however,  the 
tyrant  of  the  pool,  a  goggle-eyed  monster  about  three 
inches  long,  would  slowly  emerge  with  quivering  fins  and 
tail  from  under  the  shelving  bank.  The  small  fry  at 
this  would  suspend  their  hostilities,  and  scatter  in  a 
panic  at  the  appearance  of  overwhelming  force. 

"Soft-hearted  philanthropists,"  thought  I,  "may  sigh 
long  for  their  peaceful  millennium ;  for,  from  minnows 
to  men,  life  is  incessant  war. " 

Evening  approached  at  last;  the  crests  of  the  moun- 
tains  were  still  bright  in  sunshine,  while  our  deep  glen 
was  completely  shadowed.  I  left  the  camp,  and  climbed 
a  neighboring  hill.  The  sun  was  still  glaring  through  the 
stiff  pines  on  the  ridge  of  the  western  mountain.  In  a 
moment  he  was  gone,  and,  as  the  landscape  darkened,  1 
turned  again  towards  the  village.  As  I  descended,  the 


PASSAGE    OF   THE    MOUNTAINS.  271 

howling  of  wolves  and  the  barking  of  foxes  came  up 
out  of  the  dim  woods  from  far  and  near.  The  camp  was 
glowing  with  a  multitude  of  fires,  and  alive  with  dusky 
naked  figures,  whose  tall  shadows  flitted,  weird  and  ghost- 
like, among  the  surrounding  crags. 

I  found  a  circle  of  smokers  seated  in  their  usual  place ; 
that  is,  on  the  ground  before  the  lodge  of  a  certain  war- 
rior, who  seemed  to  be  generally  known  for  his  social 
qualities.  I  sat  down  to  smoke  a  parting  pipe  with  my 
savage  friends.  That  day  was  the  first  of  August,  on 
which  I  had  promised  to  meet  Shaw  at  Fort  Laramie. 
The  fort  was  less  than  two  days'  journey  distant,  and 
that  my  friend  need  not  suffer  anxiety  on  my  account,  I 
resolved  to  push  forward  as  rapidly  as  possible  to  the  place 
of  meeting.  I  went  to  look  after  the  Hail-Storm,  and 
having  found  him,  I  offered  him  a  handful  of  hawks'- 
bells  and  a  paper  of  vermilion,  on  condition  that  he 
would  guide  me  in  the  morning  through  the  mountains. 

The  Hail-Storm  ejaculated  "How  I "  and  accepted  the 
gift.  Nothing  more  was  said  on  either  side ;  the  matter 
was  settled,  and  I  lay  down  to  sleep  in  Kongra-Tonga's 
lodge. 

Long  before  daylight,  Raymond  shook  me  by  the 
shoulder. 

"Every  thing  is  ready,"  he  said. 

I  went  out.  The  morning  was  chill,  damp,  and  dark ; 
and  the  whole  camp  seemed  asleep.  The  Hail-Storm  sat 
on  horseback  before  the  lodge,  and  my  mare  Pauline  and 
the  mule  which  Raymond  rode  were  picketed  near  it. 
We  saddled  and  made  our  other  arrangements  for  the 
journey,  but  before  these  were  completed  the  camp  began 
to  stir,  and  the  lodge-coverings  fluttered  and  rustled  as 
the  squaws  pulled  them  down  in  preparation  for  depart- 
ure. Just  as  the  light  began  to  appear,  we  left  the 


272  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

ground,  passing  up  through  a  narrow  opening  among  the 
rocks  which  led  eastward  out  of  the  meadow.  Gaining 
the  top  of  this  passage,  I  turned  and  sat  looking  back 
upon  the  camp,  dimly  visible  in  the  gray  light  of  morn- 
ing. All  was  alive  with  the  bustle  of  preparation.  I 
turned  away,  half  unwilling  to  take  a  final  leave  of  my 
savage  associates.  We  passed  among  rocks  and  pine- 
trees  so  dark,  that  for  a  while  we  could  scarcely  see  our 
way.  The  country  in  front  was  wild  and  broken,  half 
hill,  half  plain,  partly  open  and  partly  covered  with  woods 
of  pine  and  oak.  Barriers  of  lofty  mountains  encom- 
passed it;  the  woods  were  fresh  and  cool  in  the  early 
morning,  the  peaks  of  the  mountains  were  wreathed  with 
mist,  and  sluggish  vapors  were  entangled  among  the 
forests  upon  their  sides.  At  length  the  black  pinnacle  of 
the  tallest  mountain  was  tipped  with  gold  by  the  rising 
sun.  The  Hail-Storm,  who  rode  in  front,  gave  a  low  ex- 
clamation. Some  large  animal  leaped  up  from  among 
the  bushes,  and  an  elk,  as  I  thought,  his  horns  thrown 
back  over  his  neck,  darted  past  us  across  the  open  space, 
and  bounded  like  a  mad  thing  away  among  the  adjoining 
pines.  Raymond  was  soon  out  of  his  saddle,  but  before 
he  could  fire,  the  animal  was  full  two  hundred  yards 
distant.  The  ball  struck  its  mark,  though  much  too  low 
for  mortal  effect.  The  elk,  however,  wheeled  in  his  flight, 
and  ran  at  full  speed  among  the  trees,  nearly  at  right 
angles  to  his  former  course.  I  fired  and  broke  his  shoul- 
der ;  still  he  moved  on,  limping  down  into  a  neighboring 
woody  hollow,  whither  the  young  Indian  followed  and 
killed  him.  When  we  reached  the  spot,  we  discovered 
him  to  be  no  elk,  but  a  black-tailed  deer,  an  animal  nearly 
twice  as  large  as  the  common  deer,  and  quite  unknown  in 
the  east.  The  reports  of  the  rifles  had  reached  the  ears 
of  the  Indians,  and  several  of  them  came  to  the  spot. 


PASSAGE    OF    THE    MOUNTAINS.  273 

Leaving  the  hide  of  the  deer  to  the  Hail-Storm,  we  hung  as 
much  of  the  meat  as  we  wanted  behind  our  saddles,  left 
the  rest  to  the  Indians,  and  resumed  our  journey.  Mean- 
while the  village  was  on  its  way,  and  had  gone  so  far 
that  to  get  in  advance  of  it  was  impossible.  We  directed 
our  course  so  as  to  strike  its  line  of  march  at  the  nearest 
point.  In  a  short  time,  through  the  dark  trunks  of  the 
pines,  we  could  see  the  figures  of  the  Indians  as  they 
passed.  Once  more  we  were  among  them.  They  were 
moving  with  even  more  than  their  usual  precipitation, 
crowded  together  in  a  narrow  pass  between  rocks  and  old 
pine-trees.  We  were  on  the  eastern  descent  of  the  moun- 
tain, and  soon  came  to  a  rough  and  difficult  defile,  lead- 
ing down  a  very  steep  declivity.  The  whole  swarm 
poured  down  together,  filling  the  rocky  passage-way  like 
some  turbulent  mountain-stream.  The  mountains  before 
us  were  on  fire,  and  had  been  so  for  weeks.  The  view  in 
front  was  obscured  by  a  vast  dim  sea  of  smoke,  while 
on  either  hand  rose  the  tall  cliffs,  bearing  aloft  their 
crests  of  pines,  and  the  sharp  pinnacles  and  broken 
ridges  of  the  mountains  beyond  were  faintly  traceable  as 
through  a  veil.  The  scene  in  itself  was  grand  and  im- 
posing, but  with  the  savage  multitude,  the  armed  war- 
riors, the  naked  children,  the  gayly  apparelled  girls, 
pouring  impetuously  down  the  heights,  it  would  have 
formed  a  noble  subject  for  a  painter,  and  only  the  pen 
of  a  Scott  could  have  done  it  justice  in  description. 

We  passed  over  a  burnt  tract  where  the  ground  was 
hot  beneath  the  horses'  feet,  and  between  the  blazing  sides 
of  two  mountains.  Before  long  we  had  descended  to  a 
softer  region,  where  we  found  a  succession  of  little  valleys 
watered  by  a  stream,  along  the  borders  of  which  grew 
abundance  of  wild  gooseberries  and  currants,  and  the 
children  and  many  of  the  men  straggled  from  the  line  of 

18 


274  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

march  to  gather  them  as  we  passed  along.  Descending 
still  farther,  the  view  changed  rapidly.  The  burning 
mountains  were  behind  us,  and  through  the  open  valleys 
in  front  we  could  see  the  prairie,  stretching  like  an  ocean 
beyond  the  sight.  After  passing  through  a  line  of  trees 
that  skirted  the  brook,  the  Indians  filed  out  upon  the 
plains.  I  was  thirsty  and  knelt  down  by  the  little  stream 
to  drink.  As  I  mounted  again,  I  very  carelessly  left  my 
rifle  among  the  grass,  and  my  thoughts  being  otherwise 
absorbed,  I  rode  for  some  distance  before  discovering  its 
absence.  I  lost  no  time  in  turning  about  and  galloping 
back  in  search  of  it.  Passing  the  line  of  Indians,  I 
watched  every  warrior  as  he  rode  by  me  at  a  canter,  and 
at  length  discovered  my  rifle  in  the  hands  of  one  of  them, 
who,  on  my  approaching  to  claim  it,  immediately  gave  it 
up.  Having  no  other  means  of  acknowledging  the  obli- 
gation, I  took  off  one  of  my  spurs  and  gave  it  to  him. 
He  was  greatly  delighted,  looking  upon  it  as  a  dis- 
tinguished mark  of  favor,  and  immediately  held  out  huj 
foot  for  me  to  buckle  it  on.  As  soon  as  I  had  done  so,  he 
struck  it  with  all  his  force  into  the  side  of  his  horse, 
which  gave  a  violent  leap.  The  Indian  laughed  and 
spurred  harder  than  before.  At  this  the  horse  shot  away 
like  an  arrow,  amid  the  screams  and  laughter  of  the 
squaws,  and  the  ejaculations  of  the  men,  who  exclaimed: 
"Washtay! —  Good!"  at  the  potent  effect  of  my  gift. 
The  Indian  had  no  saddle,  and  nothing  in  place  of  a 
bridle  except  a  leather  string  tied  round  the  horse's  jaw. 
The  animal  was  of  course  wholly  uncontrollable,  and 
stretched  away  at  full  speed  over  the  prairie,  till  he  and 
his  rider  vanished  behind  a  distant  swell.  I  never  saw 
the  man  again,  but  I  presume  no  harm  came  to  him.  An 
Indian  on  horseback  has  more  lives  than  a  cat. 

The  village  encamped  on  the  scorching  prairie,  close 


PASSAGE    OF   THE   MOUNTAINS.  275 

to  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  The  heat  was  most  intense 
and  penetrating.  The  coverings  of  the  lodgings  were 
raised  a  foot  or  more  from  the  ground,  in  order  to  pro- 
cure some  circulation  of  air;  and  Reynal  thought  proper 
to  lay  aside  his  trapper's  dress  of  buckskin  and  assume 
the  very  scanty  costume  of  an  Indian.  Thus  elegantly 
attired,  he  stretched  himself  in  his  lodge  on  a  buffalo- 
robe,  alternately  cursing  the  heat  and  puffing  at  the  pipe 
which  he  and  I  passed  between  us.  There  was  present 
also  a  select  circle  of  Indian  friends  and  relatives.  A 
small  boiled  puppy  was  served  up  as  a  parting  feast,  to 
which  was  added,  by  way  of  dessert,  a  wooden  bowl  of 
gooseberries  from  the  mountains. 

"  Look  there,"  said  Reynal,  pointing  out  of  the  opening 
of  his  lodge ;  "  do  you  see  that  line  of  buttes  about  fifteen 
miles  off  ?  Well,  now  do  you  see  that  farthest  one,  with 
the  white  speck  on  the  face  of  it  ?  Do  you  think  you 
ever  saw  it  before  ?  " 

"It  looks  to  me,"  said  I,  "like  the  hill  that  we  were 
'camped  under  when  we  were  on  Laramie  Creek,  six  or 
eight  weeks  ago." 

"You've  hit  it,"  answered  Reynal. 

"Go  and  bring  in  the  animals,  Raymond,"  said  I; 
"we'll  camp  there  to-night,  and  start  for  the  fort  in  the 
morning." 

The  mare  and  the  mule  were  soon  before  the  lodge. 
We  saddled  them,  and  in  the  mean  time  a  number  of 
Indians  collected  about  us.  The  virtues  of  Pauline,  my 
strong,  fleet,  and  hardy  little  mare,  were  well  known  in 
camp,  and  several  of  the  visitors  were  mounted  upon 
good  horses  which  they  had  brought  me  as  presents.  I 
promptly  declined  their  offers,  since  accepting  them 
would  have  involved  the  necessity  of  transferring  Pauline 
into  their  barbarous  hands.  We  took  leave  of  Reynal, 


276  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

but  not  of  the  Indians,  who  are  accustomed  to  dispense 
with  such  superfluous  ceremonies.  Leaving  the  camp, 
we  rode  straight  over  the  prairie  towards  the  white-faced 
bluff,  whose  pale  ridges  swelled  gently  against  the  hori- 
zon, like  a  cloud.  An  Indian  went  with  us,  whose  name 
I  forget,  though  the  ugliness  of  his  face  and  the  ghastly 
width  of  his  mouth  dwell  vividly  in  my  recollection.  The 
antelope  were  numerous,  but  we  did  not  heed  them. 
We  rode  directly  towards  our  destination,  over  the  arid 
plains  and  barren  hills ;  until,  late  in  the  afternoon,  half 
spent  with  heat,  thirst,  and  fatigue,  we  saw  a  gladdening 
sight:  the  long  line  of  trees  and  the  deep  gulf  that  mark 
the  course  of  Laramie  Creek.  Passing  through  the 
growth  of  huge  dilapidated  old  cotton-wood  trees  that 
bordered  the  creek,  we  rode  across  to  the  other  side. 
The  rapid  and  foaming  waters  were  filled  with  fish  play- 
ing and  splashing  in  the  shallows.  As  we  gained  the 
farther  bank,  our  horses  turned  eagerly  to  drink,  and  we, 
kneeling  on  the  sand,  followed  their  example.  We  had 
not  gone  far  before  the  scene  began  to  grow  familiar. 

"We  are  getting  near  home,  Raymond,"  said  I. 

There  stood  the  big  tree  under  which  we  had  encamped 
so  long ;  there  were  the  white  cliffs  that  used  to  look 
down  upon  our  tent  when  it  stood  at  the  bend  of  the 
creek ;  there  was  the  meadow  in  which  our  horses  had 
grazed  for  weeks,  and  a  little  farther  on,  the  prairie-dog 
village  where  I  had  beguiled  many  a  languid  hour  in 
shooting  the  unfortunate  inhabitants. 

"We  are  going  to  catch  it  now,"  said  Raymond,  turn- 
ing his  broad  face  up  towards  the  sky. 

In  truth  the  cliffs  and  the  meadow,  the  stream  and  the 
groves,  were  darkening  fast.  Black  masses  of  cloud  were 
swelling  up  in  the  south,  and  the  thunder  was  growling 
ominously. 


PASSAGE    OF    THE   MOUNTAINS.  277 

"We  will  'camp  there,"  I  said,  pointing  to  a  dense 
grove  of  trees  lower  down  the  stream.  Raymond  and  I 
turned  towards  it,  but  the  Indian  stopped  and  called 
earnestly  after  us.  When  we  demanded  what  was  the 
matter,  he  said,  that  the  ghosts  of  two  warriors  were 
always  among  those  trees,  and  that  if  we  slept  there,  they 
would  scream  and  throw  stones  at  us  all  night,  and  per- 
haps steal  our  horses  before  morning.  Thinking  it  as 
well  to  humor  him,  we  left  behind  us  the  haunt  of  these 
extraordinary  ghosts,  and  passed  on  towards  Chugwater, 
riding  at  full  gallop,  for  the  big  drops  began  to  patter 
down.  Soon  we  came  in  sight  of  the  poplar  saplings 
that  grew  about  the  mouth  of  the  little  stream.  We 
leaped  to  the  ground,  threw  off  our  saddles,  turned  our 
horses  loose,  and  drawing  our  knives  began  to  slash 
among  the  bushes  to  cut  twigs  and  branches  for  making 
a  shelter  against  the  rain.  Bending  down  the  taller 
saplings  as  they  grew,  we  piled  the  young  shoots  upon 
them,  and  thus  made  a  convenient  pent-house ;  but  our 
labor  was  needless.  The  storm  scarcely  touched  us. 
Half  a  mile  on  our  right  the  rain  was  pouring  down  like 
a  cataract,  and  the  thunder  roared  over  the  prairie  like  a 
battery  of  cannon ;  while  we  by  good  fortune  received  only 
a  few  heavy  drops  from  the  skirt  of  the  passing  cloud. 
The  weather  cleared  and  the  sun  set  gloriously.  Sitting 
close  under  our  leafy  canopy,  we  proceeded  to  discuss  a 
substantial  meal  of  wasna  which  Weah-Washtay  had  given 
me.  The  Indian  had  brought  with  him  his  pipe  and  a 
bag  of  sJwngsasha ;  so  before  lying  down  to  sleep,  we 
sat  for  some  time  smoking  together.  First,  however, 
our  wide-mouthed  friend  had  taken  the  precaution  of 
carefully  examining  the  neighborhood.  He  reported  that 
eight  men,  counting  them  on  his  fingers,  had  been  en- 
camped there  not  long  before,  —  Bisonette,  Paul  Dorion, 


278  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

Antoine  Le  Rouge,  Richardson,  and  four  others,  whose 
names  he  could  not  tell.  All  this  proved  strictly  correct. 
By  what  instinct  he  had  arrived  at  such  accurate  con- 
clusions, I  am  utterly  at  a  loss  to  divine. 

It  was  still  quite  dark  when  I  awoke  and  called  Ray- 
mond. The  Indian  was  already  gone,  having  chosen  to  go 
on  before  us  to  the  fort.  Setting  out  after  him,  we  rode 
for  some  time  in  complete  darkness,  and  when  the  sun  at 
length  rose,  glowing  like  a  fiery  ball  of  copper,  we  were 
within  ten  miles  of  the  fort.  At  length,  from  the  summit 
of  a  sandy  bluff  we  could  see  Fort  Laramie,  miles  before 
us,  standing  by  the  side  of  the  stream  like  a  little  gray 
speck,  in  the  midst  of  the  boundless  desolation.  I  stopped 
my  horse,  and  sat  for  a  moment  looking  down  upon  it. 
It  seemed  to  me  the  very  centre  of  comfort  and  civiliza- 
tion. We  were  not  long  in  approaching  it,  for  we  rode  at 
speed  the  greater  part  of  the  way.  Laramie  Creek  still 
intervened  between  us  and  the  friendly  walls.  Entering 
the  water  at  the  point  where  we  had  struck  upon  the  bank, 
we  raised  our  feet  to  the  saddle  behind  us,  and  thus  kneel- 
ing as  it  were  on  horseback,  passed  dry-shod  through  the 
swift  current.  As  we  rode  up  the  bank,  a  number  of  men 
appeared  in  the  gateway.  Three  of  them  came  forward 
to  meet  us.  In  a  moment  I  distinguished  Shaw;  Henry 
Chatillon  followed,  with  his  face  of  manly  simplicity  and 
frankness,  and  Deslauriers  came  last,  with  a  broad  grin 
of  welcome.  The  meeting  was  not  on  either  side  one  of 
mere  ceremony.  For  my  own  part,  the  change  was  a 
most  agreeable  one,  from  the  society  of  savages  and  men 
little  better  than  savages,  to  that  of  my  gallant  and  high- 
minded  companion,  and  our  noble-hearted  guide.  My 
appearance  was  equally  welcome  to  Shaw,  who  was  be- 
ginning to  entertain  some  very  uncomfortable  surmises 
concerning  me. 


PASSAGE    OF   THE   MOUNTAINS.  279 

Bordeaux  greeted  me  cordially,  and  shouted  to  the 
cook.  This  functionary  was  a  new  acquisition,  having 
lately  come  from  Fort  Pierre  with  the  trading  wagons. 
Whatever  skill  he  might  have  boasted,  he  had  not  the 
most  promising  materials  to  exercise  it  upon.  He  set 
before  me,  however,  a  breakfast  of  biscuit,  coffee,  and 
salt  pork.  It  seemed  like  a  new  phase  of  existence,  to 
be  seated  once  more  on  a  bench,  with  a  knife  and  fork,  a 
plate  and  teacup,  and  something  resembling  a  table  be- 
fore me.  The  coffee  seemed  delicious,  and  the  bread  was 
a  most  welcome  novelty,  since  for  three  weeks  I  had  tasted 
scarcely  any  thing  but  meat,  and  that  for  the  most  part 
without  salt.  The  meal  also  had  the  relish  of  good  com- 
pany, for  opposite  to  me  sat  Shaw  in  elegant  dishabille. 
If  one  is  anxious  thoroughly  to  appreciate  the  value  of  a 
congenial  companion,  he  has  only  to  spend  a  few  weeks 
by  himself  in  an  Ogillallah  village.  And  if  he  can  con- 
trive to  add  to  his  seclusion,  a  debilitating  and  somewhat 
critical  illness,  his  perceptions  upon  this  subject  will  be 
rendered  considerably  more  vivid. 

Shaw  had  been  two  or  three  weeks  at  the  fort.  I  found 
him  established  in  his  old  quarters,  a  large  apartment 
usually  occupied  by  the  absent  bourgeois.  In  one  corner 
was  a  soft  pile  of  excellent  buffalo-robes,  and  here  I  lay 
down.  Shaw  brought  me  three  books. 

"Here,"  said  he,  "is  your  Shakspeare  and  Byron,  and 
here  is  the  Old  Testament,  which  has  as  much  poetry  in 
it  as  the  other  two  put  together." 

I  chose  the  worst  of  the  three,  and  for  the  greater  part 
of  that  day  I  lay  on  the  buffalo-robes,  fairly  revelling 
in  the  creations  of  that  resplendent  genius  which  has 
achieved  no  more  signal  triumph  than  that  of  half  beguil- 
ing us  to  forget  the  unmanly  character  of  its  possessor. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  LONELY  JOURNEY. 

ON  the  day  of  my  arrival  at  Fort  Laramie,  Shaw  and 
I  were  lounging  on  two  buffalo-robes  in  the  large 
apartment  hospitably  assigned  to  us;  Henry  Chatillon 
also  was  present,  busy  about  the  harness  and  weapons, 
which  had  been  brought  into  the  room,  and  two  or  three 
Indians  were  crouching  on  the  floor,  eying  us  with  their 
fixed  unwavering  gaze. 

"I  have  been  well  off  here, "said  Shaw,  "in  all  re- 
spects but  one ;  there  is  no  good  shongsasha  to  be  had 
for  love  or  money." 

I  gave  him  a  small  leather  bag  containing  some  of  ex- 
cellent quality,  which  I  had  brought  from  the  Black  Hills. 
"Now,  Henry,"  said  he,  "hand  me  Papin's  chopping  - 
board,  or  give  it  to  that  Indian,  and  let  him  cut  the  mix- 
ture; they  understand  it  better  than  any  white  man." 

The  Indian,  without  saying  a  word,  mixed  the  bark  and 
the  tobacco  in  due  proportions,  filled  the  pipe,  and  lighted 
it.  This  done,  my  companion  and  I  proceeded  to  delib- 
erate on  our  future  course  of  proceeding ;  first,  however, 
Shaw  acquainted  me  with  some  incidents  which  had  oc- 
curred at  the  fort  during  my  absence. 

About  a  week  before,  four  men  had  arrived  from 
beyond  the  mountains:  Sublette,  Reddick,  and  two 
others.  Just  before  reaching  the  fort,  they  had  met  a 
large  party  of  Indians,  chiefly  young  men.  All  of  them 


THE   LONELY  JOURNEY.  281 

belonged  to  the  village  of  our  old  friend  Smoke,  who, 
with  his  whole  band  of  adherents,  professed  the  greatest 
friendship  for  the  whites.  The  travellers  therefore 
approached  and  began  to  converse  without  the  least  sus- 
picion. Suddenly,  however,  their  bridles  were  seized,  and 
they  were  ordered  to  dismount.  Instead  of  complying, 
they  lashed  their  horses,  and  broke  away  from  the 
Indians.  As  they  galloped  off  they  heard  a  yell  behind 
them,  with  a  burst  of  derisive  laughter,  and  the  reports 
of  several  guns.  None  of  them  were  hurt,  though  Red- 
dick's  bridle-rein  was  cut  by  a  bullet  within  an  inch  of 
his  hand.  After  this  taste  of  Indian  manners,  they  felt 
for  the  moment  no  disposition  to  encounter  farther  risks. 
They  intended  to  pursue  the  route  southward  along  the 
foot  of  the  mountains  to  Bent's  Fort;  and  as  our  plans 
coincided  with  theirs,  they  proposed  to  join  forces.  Find- 
ing, however,  that  I  did  not  return,  they  grew  impatient 
of  inaction,  forgot  their  late  danger,  and  set  out  without 
us,  promising  to  wait  our  arrival  at  Bent's  Fort.  From 
thence  we  were  to  make  the  long  journey  to  the  settle- 
ments in  company,  as  the  path  was  not  a  little  dangerous, 
being  infested  by  hostile  Pawnees  and  Camanches. 

We  expected,  on  reaching  Bent's  Fort,  to  find  there 
still  another  reinforcement.  A  young  Kentuckian  had 
come  out  to  the  mountains  with  Russel's  party  of  Califor- 
nia emigrants.  One  of  his  chief  objects,  as  he  gave  out, 
was  to  kill  an  Indian ;  an  exploit  which  he  afterwards 
succeeded  in  achieving,  much  to  the  jeopardy  of  our- 
selves, and  others  who  had  to  pass  through  the  country 
of  the  dead  Pawnee's  enraged  relatives.  Having  become 
disgusted  with  his  emigrant  associates,  he  left  them,  and 
had  some  time  before  set  out  with  a  party  of  companions 
for  the  head  of  the  Arkansas.  He  left  us  a  letter,  to  say 
that  he  would  wait  until  we  arrived  at  Bent's  Fort,  and 


282  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

accompany  us  thence  to  the  settlements.  When  how- 
ever he  came  to  the  fort,  he  found  there  a  party  of  forty 
men  about  to  make  the  homeward  journey,  and  wisely 
preferred  to  avail  himself  of  so  strong  an  escort.  Sub- 
lette  and  his  companions  also  joined  this  company;  so 
that  on  reaching  Bent's  Fort,  some  six  weeks  after,  we 
found  ourselves  deserted  by  our  allies  and  thrown  once 
more  upon  our  own  resources. 

On  the  fourth  of  August,  early  in  the  afternoon,  we 
bade  a  final  adieu  to  the  hospitable  gateway  of  Fort 
Laramie.  Again  Shaw  and  I  were  riding  side  by  side  on 
the  prairie.  For  the  first  fifty  miles  we  had  companions 
with  us :  Troche*,  a  trapper,  and  Rouville,  a  nondescript 
in  the  employ  of  the  Fur  Company,  who  were  going  to 
join  the  trader  Bisonette  at  his  encampment  near  the 
head  of  Horse  Creek.  We  rode  only  six  or  eight  miles 
that  afternoon  before  we  came  to  a  little  brook  traversing 
the  barren  prairie.  All  along  its  course  grew  copses  of 
young  wild-cherry  trees,  loaded  with  ripe  fruit,  and  almost 
concealing  the  gliding  thread  of  water  with  their  dense 
growth.  Here  we  encamped;  and  being  too  indolent  to 
pitch  our  tent,  we  flung  our  saddles  on  the  ground,  spread 
a  pair  of  buffalo  -robes,  lay  down  upon  them,  and  began 
to  smoke.  Meanwhile  Deslauriers  busied  himself  with 
his  frying-pan,  and  Raymond  stood  guard  over  the  band 
of  grazing  horses.  Deslauriers  had  an  active  assistant  in 
Rouville,  who  professed  great  skill  in  the  culinary  art, 
and,  seizing  upon  a  fork,  began  to  lend  his  aid  in  cooking 
supper.  Indeed,  according  to  his  own  belief,  Rouville 
was  a  man  of  universal  knowledge,  and  he  lost  no  oppor- 
tunity to  display  his  manifold  accomplishments.  He  had 
been  a  circus-rider  at  St.  Louis,  and  once  he  rode  round 
Fort  Laramie  on  his  head,  to  the  utter  bewilderment  of 
the  Indians.  He  was  also  noted  as  the  wit  of  the  fort; 


THE  LONELY  JOURNEY.  283 

and  as  he  had  considerable  humor  and  abundant  vivacity, 
he  contributed  more  that  night  to  the  liveliness  of  the 
camp  than  all  the  rest  of  the  party  put  together.  At  one 
instant  he  would  kneel  by  Deslauriers,  instructing  him  in 
the  true  method  of  frying  antelope-steaks,  then  he  would 
come  and  seat  himself  at  our  side,  dilating  upon  the 
correct  fashion  of  braiding  up  a  horse's  tail,  telling 
apocryphal  stories  how  he  had  killed  a  buffalo-bull  with  a 
knife,  having  first  cut  off  his  tail  when  at  full  speed,  or 
relating  whimsical  anecdotes  of  the  bourgeois  Papin.  At 
last  he  snatched  up  a  volume  of  Shakspeare  that  was 
lying  on  the  grass,  and  halted  and  stumbled  through  a 
line  or  two  to  prove  that  he  could  read.  He  went 
gambolling  about  the  camp,  chattering  like  some  frolic- 
some ape ;  and  whatever  he  was  doing  at  one  moment, 
the  presumption  was  a  sure  one  that  he  would  not  be 
doing  it  the  next.  His  companion  Troche*  sat  silently  on 
the  grass,  not  speaking  a  word,  but  keeping  a  vigilant 
eye  on  a  very  ugly  little  Utah  squaw,  of  whom  he  was 
extremely  jealous. 

On  the  next  day  we  travelled  farther,  crossing  the  wide 
sterile  basin  called  "  Goch^'s  Hole. "  Towards  night  we 
became  involved  among  ravines ;  and  being  unable  to  find 
water,  our  journey  was  protracted  to  a  very  late  hour. 
On  the  next  morning  we  had  to  pass  a  long  line  of  bluffs, 
whose  raw  sides,  wrought  upon  by  rains  and  storms,  were 
of  a  ghastly  whiteness  most  oppressive  to  the  sight.  As 
we  ascended  a  gap  in  these  hills,  the  way  was  marked  by 
huge  foot-prints,  like  those  of  a  human  giant.  They 
were  the  tracks  of  the  grizzly  bear,  of  which  we  had  also 
seen  abundance  on  the  day  before.  Immediately  after 
this  we  were  crossing  a  barren  plain,  spreading  in  long 
and  gentle  undulations  to  the  horizon.  Though  the  sun 
was  bright,  there  was  a  light  haze  in  the  atmosphere. 


284  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

The  distant  hills  assumed  strange,  distorted  forms  in  the 
mirage,  and  the  edge  of  the  horizon  was  continually 
changing  its  aspect.  Shaw  and  I  were  riding  together, 
and  Henry  Chatillon  was  a  few  rods  before  us,  when  he 
stopped  his  horse  suddenly,  and  turning  round  with  the 
peculiar  earnest  expression  which  he  always  wore  when 
excited,  called  us  to  come  forward.  We  galloped  to  his 
side.  Henry  pointed  towards  a  black  speck  on  the  gray 
swell  of  the  prairie,  apparently  about  a  mile  off.  "  It 
must  be  a  bear,"  said  he;  "come,  now  we  shall  all  have 
some  sport.  Better  fun  to  fight  him  than  to  fight  an  old 
buffalo-bull;  grizzly  bear  so  strong  and  smart." 

So  we  all  galloped  forward  together,  prepared  for  a  hard 
fight ;  for  these  bears,  though  clumsy  in  appearance,  are 
incredibly  fierce  and  active.  The  swell  of  the  prairie 
concealed  the  black  object  from  our  view.  Immediately 
after  it  appeared  again.  But  now  it  seemed  very  near  to 
us ;  and  as  we  looked  at  it  in  astonishment,  it  suddenly 
separated  into  two  parts,  each  of  which  took  wing  and 
flew  away.  We  stopped  our  horses  and  looked  at  Henry, 
whose  face  exhibited  a  curious  mixture  of  mirth  and 
mortification.  His  eye  had  been  so  completely  deceived 
by  the  peculiar  atmosphere,  that  he  had  mistaken  two 
large  crows  at  the  distance  of  fifty  rods  for  a  grizzly  bear 
a  mile  off.  To  the  journey's  end  Henry  never  heard  the 
last  of  the  grizzly  bear  with  wings. 

In  the  afternoon  we  came  to  the  foot  of  a  considerable 
hill.  As  we  ascended  it,  Rouville  began  to  ask  questions 
concerning  our  condition  and  prospects  at  home,  and 
Shaw  was  edifying  him  with  an  account  of  an  imaginary 
wife  and  child,  to  which  he  listened  with  implicit  faith. 
Reaching  the  top  of  the  hill,  we  saw  the  windings  of 
Horse  Creek  on  the  plains  below  us,  and  a  little  on  the 
left  we  could  distinguish  the  camp  of  Bisonette  among 


THE    LONELY   JOURNEY.  285 

the  trees  and  copses  along  the  course  of  the  stream. 
Rouville's  face  assumed  just  then  a  ludicrously  blank 
expression.  We  inquired  what  was  the  matter;  when  it 
appeared  that  Bisonette  had  sent  him  from  this  place  to 
Fort  Laramie  with  the  sole  object  of  bringing  back  a  sup- 
ply of  tobacco.  Our  rattlebrain  friend,  from  the  time  of 
his  reaching  the  fort  up  to  the  present  moment,  had  en- 
tirely forgotten  the  object  of  his  journey,  and  had  ridden 
a  dangerous  hundred  miles  for  nothing.  Descending  to 
Horse  Creek,  we  forded  it,  and  on  the  opposite  bank  a 
solitary  Indian  sat  on  horseback  under  a  tree.  He  said 
nothing,  but  turned  and  led  the  way  towards  the  camp. 
Bisonette  had  made  choice  of  an  admirable  position. 
The  stream,  with  its  thick  growth  of  trees,  inclosed  on 
three  sides  a  wide  green  meadow,  where  about  forty  Dah- 
cotah  lodges  were  pitched  in  a  circle,  and  beyond  them  a 
few  lodges  of  the  friendly  Shiennes.  Bisonette  himself 
lived  in  the  Indian  manner.  Riding  up  to  his  lodge,  we 
found  him  seated  at  the  head  of  it,  surrounded  by  various 
appliances  of  comfort  not  common  on  the  prairie.  His 
squaw  was  near  him,  and  rosy  children  were  scrambling 
about  in  printed  calico  gowns ;  Paul  Dorion,  also,  with 
his  leathery  face  and  old  white  capote,  was  seated  in  the 
lodge,  together  with  Antoine  Le  Rouge,  a  half-breed  Paw- 
nee, Sibille,  a  trader,  and  several  other  white  men. 

"It  will  do  you  no  harm,"  said  Bisonette,  "to  stay 
here  with  us  for  a  day  or  two,  before  you  start  for  the 
Pueblo." 

We  accepted  the  invitation,  and  pitched  our  tent  on  a 
rising  ground  above  the  camp  and  close  to  the  trees. 
Bisonette  soon  invited  us  to  a  feast,  and  we  suffered 
abundance  of  the  same  sort  of  attention  from  his  Indian 
associates.  The  reader  may  possibly  recollect  that  when 
I  joined  the  Indian  village,  beyond  the  Black  Hills,  I 


286  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

found  that  a  few  families  were  absent,  having  declined  to 
pass  the  mountains  along  with  the  rest.  The  Indians  in 
Bisonette's  camp  consisted  of  these  very  families,  and 
many  of  them  came  to  me  that  evening  to  inquire  after 
their  relatives  and  friends.  They  were  not  a  little  morti- 
fied to  learn  that  while  they,  from  their  own  timidity  and 
indolence,  were  almost  in  a  starving  condition,  the  rest 
of  the  village  had  provided  their  lodges  for  the  next  sea- 
son, laid  in  a  great  stock  of  provisions,  and  were  living 
in  abundance.  Bisonette's  companions  had  been  sustain- 
ing themselves  for  some  time  on  wild  cherries,  which  the 
squaws  pounded,  stones  and  all,  and  spread  on  buffalo- 
robes  to  dry  in  the  sun ;  they  were  then  eaten  without 
farther  preparation,  or  used  as  an  ingredient  in  various 
delectable  compounds. 

On  the  next  day,  the  camp  was  in  commotion  with  a 
new  arrival.  A  single  Indian  had  come  with  his  family 
from  the  Arkansas.  As  he  passed  among  the  lodges,  he 
put  in  an  expression  of  unusual  dignity  and  importance, 
and  gave  out  that  he  had  brought  great  news  to  tell  the 
whites.  Soon  after  the  squaws  had  pitched  his  lodge,  he 
sent  his  little  son  to  invite  all  the  white  men,  and  all  the 
more  distinguished  Indians  to  a  feast.  The  guests  arrived 
and  sat  wedged  together,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  within  the 
hot  and  suffocating  lodge.  The  Stabber,  for  that  was  our 
entertainer's  name,  had  killed  an  old  buffalo  bull  on  his 
way.  This  veteran's  boiled  tripe,  tougher  than  leather, 
formed  the  main  item  of  the  repast.  For  the  rest,  it 
consisted  of  wild  cherries  and  grease  boiled  together  in 
a  large  copper  kettle.  The  feast  was  distributed,  and  for 
a  moment  all  was  silent,  strenuous  exertion ;  then  each 
guest,  though  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  turned  his 
wooden  dish  bottom  upwards  to  prove  that  he  had  done 
full  justice  to  his  entertainer's  hospitality.  The  Stabber 


THE   LONELY  JOURNEY.  287 

next  produced  his  chopping-board,  on  which  he  prepared 
the  mixture  for  smoking,  and  filled  several  pipes,  which 
circulated  among  the  company.  This  done,  he  seated 
himself  upright  on  his  couch,  and  began  with  much  ges- 
ticulation to  tell  his  story.  I  will  not  repeat  his  childish 
jargon.  It  was  so  entangled,  like  the  greater  part  of  an 
Indian's  stories,  with  absurd  and  contradictory  details, 
that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  disengage  from  it  a 
single  particle  of  truth.  All  that  we  could  gather  was 
the  following :  — 

He  had  been  on  the  Arkansas,  and  there  he  had  seen 
six  great  war-parties  of  whites.  He  had  never  believed 
before  that  the  whole  world  contained  half  so  many  white 
men.  .They  all  had  large  horses,  long  knives,  and  short 
rifles,  and  some  of  them  were  dressed  alike  in  the  most 
splendid  war-dresses  he  had  ever  seen.  From  this  account 
it  was  clear  that  bodies  of  dragoons  and  perhaps  also  of 
volunteer  cavalry  had  passed  up  the  Arkansas.  The 
Stabber  had  also  seen  a  great  many  of  the  white  lodges 
of  the  Meneaska,  drawn  by  their  long-horned  buffalo. 
These  could  be  nothing  else  than  covered  ox-wagons  used 
no  doubt  in  transporting  stores  for  the  troops.  Soon 
after  seeing  this,  our  host  had  met  an  Indian  who  had 
lately  come  from  among  the  Camanches,  who  had  told 
him  that  all  the  Mexicans  had  gone  out  to  a  great  buffalo 
hunt;  that  the  Americans  had  hid  themselves  in  a  ravine ; 
and  that  when  the  Mexicans  had  shot  away  all  their  ar- 
rows, the  Americans  fired  their  guns,  raised  their  war- 
whoop,  rushed  out,  and  killed  them  all.  We  could  only 
infer  from  this,  that  war  had  been  declared  with  Mexico, 
and  a  battle  fought  in  which  the  Americans  were  victori- 
ous. When  some  weeks  after,  we  arrived  at  the  Pueblo, 
we  heard  of  General  Kearney's  march  up  the  Arkansas, 
and  of  General  Taylor's  victories  at  Matamoras. 


288  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

As  the  sun  was  setting  that  evening  a  crowd  gathered 
on  the  plain  by  the  side  of  our  tent,  to  try  the  speed  of 
their  horses.  These  were  of  erery  shape,  size,  and  color. 
Some  came  from  California,  some  from  the  States,  some 
from  among  the  mountains,  and  some  from  the  wild  bands 
of  the  prairie.  They  were  of  every  hue,  white,  black,  red, 
and  gray,  or  mottled  and  clouded  with  a  strange  variety 
of  colors.  They  all  had  a  wild  and  startled  look,  very 
different  from  the  sober  aspect  of  a  well-bred  city  steed. 
Those  most  noted  for  swiftness  and  spirit  were  decorated 
with  eagle  feathers  dangling  from  their  manes  and  tails. 
Fifty  or  sixty  Dahcotah  were  present,  wrapped  from  head 
to  foot  in  their  heavy  robes  of  whitened  hide.  There 
were  also  a  considerable  number  of  the  Shiennes,  many 
of  whom  wore  gaudy  Mexican  ponchos,  swathed  around 
their  shoulders,  but  leaving  the  right  arm  bare.  Mingled 
among  the  crowd  of  Indians  was  a  number  of  Canadians, 
chiefly  in  the  employ  of  Bisonette ;  men,  whose  home  is 
the  wilderness,  and  who  love  the  camp-fire  better  than  the 
domestic  hearth.  They  are  contented  and  happy  in  the 
midst  of  hardship,  privation,  and  danger.  Their  cheer- 
fulness and  gayety  is  irrepressible,  and  no  people  on  earth 
understand  better  how  "  to  daff  the  world  aside  and  bid 
it  pass."  Besides  these,  were  two  or  three  half-breeds,  a 
race  of  rather  extraordinary  composition,  being  according 
to  the  common  saying  half  Indian,  half  white  man,  and 
half  devil.  Antoine  Le  Rouge  was  the  most  conspicuous 
among  them,  with  his  loose  trousers  and  fluttering  calico 
shirt.  A  handkerchief  was  bound  round  his  head  to  con- 
fine his  black  snaky  hair,  and  his  small  eyes  twinkled 
beneath  it  with  a  mischievous  lustre.  He  had  a  fine 
cream-colored  horse,  whose  speed  he  must  needs  try  along 
with  the  rest.  So  he  threw  off  the  rude  high-peaked 
,  and  substituting  a  piece  of  buffalo-robe,  leaped 


THE   LONELY   JOURNEY.  289 

lightly  into  his  seat.  The  space  was  cleared,  the  word 
was  given,  and  he  and  his  Indian  rival  darted  out  like 
lightning  from  among  the  crowd,  each  stretching  forward 
over  his  horse's  neck  and  plying  his  heavy  Indian  whip 
with  might  and  main.  A  moment,  and  both  were  lost 
in  the  gloom ;  but  Antoiue  soon  came  riding  back  victori- 
ous, exultingly  patting  the  neck  of  his  quivering  and 
panting  horse. 

About  midnight,  as  I  lay  asleep,  wrapped  in  a  buffalo- 
robe  on  the  ground  by  the  side  of  our  cart,  Raymond 
came  and  woke  me.  Something  he  said  was  going  for- 
ward which  I  would  like  to  see.  Looking  down  into  the 
camp,  I  saw  on  the  farther  side  of  it  a  great  number  of 
Indians  gathered  about  a  fire,  the  bright  glare  of  which 
made  them  visible  through  the  thick  darkness;  while 
from  the  midst  proceeded  a  loud,  measured  chant  which 
would  have  killed  Paganini  outright,  broken  occasionally 
by  a  burst  of  sharp  yells.  I  gathered  the  robe  around  me, 
for  the  night  was  cold,  and  walked  down  to  the  spot. 
The  dark  throng  of  Indians  was  so  dense  that  they  almost 
intercepted  the  light  of  the  flame.  As  I  was  pushing 
among  them  with  little  ceremony,  a  chief  interposed  him- 
self, and  I  was  given  to  understand  that  a  white  man  must 
not  approach  the  scene  of  their  solemnities  too  closely. 
By  passing  round  to  the  other  side  where  there  was  a  little 
opening  in  the  crowd,  I  could  see  clearly  what  was  going 
forward,  without  intruding  my  unhallowed  presence  into 
the  inner  circle.  The  society  of  the  "  Strong  Hearts  " 
were  engaged  in  one  of  their  dances.  The  "Strong 
Hearts"  are  a  warlike  association,  comprising  men  of 
both  the  Dahcotah  and  Shienne  nations,  and  entirely 
composed,  or  supposed  to  be  so,  of  young  braves  of  the 
highest  mettle.  Its  fundamental  principle  is  the  admir- 
able one  of  never  retreating  from  any  enterprise  once 


290  THE    OKEGON   TKAIL. 

begun.  All  these  Indian  associations  have  a  tutelary 
spirit.  That  of  the  Strong  Hearts  is  embodied  in  the 
fox,  an  animal  which  white  men  would  hardly  have 
selected  for  a  similar  purpose,  though  his  subtle  charac- 
ter agrees  well  enough  with  an  Indian's  notions  of  what 
is  honorable  in  warfare.  The  dancers  were  circling  round 
and  round  the  fire,  each  figure  brightly  illumined  at  one 
moment  by  the  yellow  light,  and  at  the  next  drawn  in 
blackest  shadow  as  it  passed  between  the  flame  and  the 
spectator.  They  would  imitate  with  the  most  ludicrous 
exactness  the  motions  and  voice  of  their  sly  patron  the 
fox.  Then  a  startling  yell  would  be  given.  Many 
other  warriors  would  leap  into  the  ring,  and  with  faces 
upturned  towards  the  starless  sky,  they  would  all  stamp, 
and  whoop,  and  brandish  their  weapons  like  so  many 
frantic  devils. 

We  remained  here  till  the  next  afternoon.  My  com- 
panion and  I  with  our  three  attendants  then  set  out  for 
the  Pueblo,  a  distance  of  three  hundred  miles,  and  we 
supposed  the  journey  would  occupy  about  a  fortnight. 
During  this  time  we  all  hoped  that  we  might  not  meet  a 
single  human  being,  for  should  we  encounter  any,  they 
would  in  all  probability  be  enemies,  in  whose  eyes  our 
rifles  would  be  our  only  passports.  For  the  first  two 
days  nothing  worth  mentioning  took  place.  On  the  third 
morning,  however,  an  untoward  incident  occurred.  We 
were  encamped  by  the  side  of  a  little  brook  in  an  exten- 
sive hollow  of  the  plain.  Deslauriers  was  up  long  before 
daylight,  and  before  he  began  to  prepare  breakfast  he 
turned  loose  all  the  horses,  as  in  duty  bound.  There  was 
a  cold  mist  clinging  close  to  the  ground,  and  by  the  time 
the  rest  of  us  were  awake  the  animals  were  invisible. 
It  was  only  after  a  long  and  anxious  search  that  we  could 
discover  by  their  tracks  the  direction  they  had  taken. 


THE    LONELY   JOURNEY.  291 

They  had  all  set  off  for  Fort  Laramie,  following  the  guid- 
ance of  a  mutinous  old  mule,  and  though  many  of  them 
were  hobbled,  they  travelled  three  miles  before  they  could 
be  overtaken  and  driven  back. 

For  two  or  three  days,  we  were  passing  over  an  arid 
desert.  The  only  vegetation  was  a  few  tufts  of  short 
grass,  dried  and  shrivelled  by  the  heat.  There  was  abun- 
dance of  strange  insects  and  reptiles.  Huge  crickets,  black 
and  bottle  green,  and  wingless  grasshoppers  of  the  most 
extravagant  dimensions,  were  tumbling  about  our  horses' 
feet,  and  lizards  without  number  darting  like  lightning 
among  the  tufts  of  grass.  The  most  curious  animal,  how- 
ever, was  that  commonly  called  the  horned-frog.  I  caught 
one  of  them  and  consigned  him  to  the  care  of  Deslauriers, 
who  tied  him  up  in  a  moccasin.  About  a  month  after 
this,  I  examined  the  prisoner's  condition,  and  finding  him 
still  lively  and  active,  I  provided  him  with  a  cage  of 
buffalo-hide,  which  was  hung  up  in  the  cart.  In  this  man- 
ner he  arrived  safely  at  the  settlements.  From  thence  he 
travelled  the  whole  way  to  Boston,  packed  closely  in  a 
trunk,  being  regaled  with  fresh  air  regularly  every  night. 
When  he  reached  his  designation  he  was  deposited  under 
a  glass  case,  where  he  sat  for  some  months  in  great  tran- 
quillity, alternately  dilating  and  contracting  his  white 
throat  to  the  admiration  of  his  visitors.  At  length,  one 
morning  about  the  middle  of  winter,  he  gave  up  the  ghost, 
and  he  now  occupies  a  bottle  of  alcohol  in  the  Agassiz 
Museum.  His  death  was  attributed  to  starvation,  a  very 
probable  conclusion,  since  for  six  months  he  had  taken 
no  food  whatever,  though  the  sympathy  of  his  juvenile  ad- 
mirers had  tempted  his  palate  with  a  great  variety  of  del- 
icacies. We  found  also  animals  of  a  somewhat  larger 
growth.  The  number  of  prairie-dogs  was  astounding. 
Frequently  the  hard  and  dry  plain  was  thickly  covered, 


292  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

for  miles  together,  with  the  little  mounds  which  they  make 
at  the  mouth  of  their  burrows,  and  small  squeaking  voices 
yelped  at  us,  as  we  passed  along.  The  noses  of  the  in- 
habitants were  just  visible  at  the  mouth  of  their  holes,  but 
no  sooner  was  their  curiosity  satisfied  than  they  would 
instantly  vanish.  Some  of  the  bolder  dogs  —  though  in 
fact  they  are  no  dogs  at  all,  but  little  marmots  rather 
smaller  than  a  rabbit  —  would  sit  yelping  at  us  on  the  top 
of  their  mounds,  jerking  their  tails  emphatically  with 
every  shrill  cry  they  uttered.  As  the  danger  drew  nearer 
they  would  wheel  about,  toss  their  heels  into  the  air, 
and  dive  in  a  twinkling  into  their  burrows.  Towards 
sunset,  and  especially  if  rain  was  threatening,  the  whole 
community  made  their  appearance  above  ground.  We 
saw  them  gathered  in  large  knots  around  the  burrow  of 
some  favorite  citizen.  There  they  would  all  sit  erect, 
their  tails  spread  out  on  the  ground,  and  their  paws  hang- 
ing down  before  their  white  breasts,  chattering  and  squeak- 
ing with  the  utmost  vivacity  upon  some  topic  of  common 
interest,  while  the  proprietor  of  the  burrow  sat  on  the  top 
of  his  mound,  looking  down  with  a  complacent  counte- 
nance on  the  enjoyment  of  his  guests.  Meanwhile,  others 
ran  about  from  burrow  to  burrow,  as  if  on  some  errand 
of  the  last  importance  to  their  subterranean  common- 
wealth. The  snakes  are  apparently  the  prairie-dog's  worst 
enemies ;  at  least  I  think  too  well  of  the  latter  to  suppose 
that  they  associate  on  friendly  terms  with  these  slimy 
intruders,  which  maybe  seen  at  all  times  basking  among 
their  holes,  into  which  they  always  re  treat  when  disturbed. 
Small  owls,  with  wise  and  grave  countenances,  also  make 
their  abode  with  the  prairie-dogs,  though  on  what  terms 
they  live  together  I  could  never  ascertain. 

On  the  fifth  day  after  leaving  Bisonette's  camp,  we  saw, 
late  in  the  afternoon,  what  we  supposed  to  be  a  consider- 


THE    LONELY   JOUSNEY.  293 

able  stream,  but  on  approaching  it,  we  found  to  our  mor- 
tification nothing  but  a  dry  bed  of  sand,  into  which  the 
water  had  sunk  and  disappeared.  We  separated,  some 
riding  in  one  direction  and  some  in  another,  along  its 
course.  Still  we  found  no  traces  of  water,  not  even  so 
much  as  a  wet  spot  in  the  sand.  The  old  cotton-wood 
trees  that  grew  along  the  bank,  lamentably  abused  by 
lightning  and  tempest,  were  withering  with  the  drought, 
and  on  the  dead  limbs,  at  the  summit  of  the  tallest,  half 
a  dozen  crows  were  hoarsely  cawing,  like  birds  of  evil 
omen.  We  had  no  alternative  but  to  keep  on.  There 
was  no  water  nearer  than  the  South  Fork  of  the  Platte, 
about  ten  miles  distant.  We  moved  forward,  angry  and 
silent,  over  a  desert  as  flat  as  the  outspread  ocean. 

The  sky  had  been  obscured  since  the  morning  by  thin 
mists  and  vapors,  but  now  vast  piles  of  clouds  were 
gathered  together  in  the  west.  They  rose  to  a  great 
height  above  the  horizon,  and  looking  up  at  them  I  dis- 
tinguished one  mass  darker  than  the  rest,  and  of  a  pecu- 
liar conical  form.  I  happened  to  look  again,  and  still 
could  see  it  as  before.  At  some  moments  it  was  dimly 
visible,  at  others  its  outline  was  sharp  and  distinct;  but 
while  the  clouds  around  it  were  shifting,  changing,  and 
dissolving  away,  it  still  towered  aloft  in  the  midst  of  them, 
fixed  and  immovable.  It  must,  thought  I,  be  the  summit 
of  a  mountain ;  and  yet  its  height  staggered  me.  My  con- 
clusion was  right,  however.  It  was  Long's  Peak,  once 
believed  to  be  one  of  the  highest  of  the  Rocky  Mountain 
chain,  though  more  recent  discoveries  have  proved  the 
contrary.  The  thickening  gloom  soon  hid  it  from  view, 
and  we  never  saw  it  again,  for  on  the  following  day,  and 
for  some  time  after,  the  air  was  so  full  of  mist  that  the 
view  of  distant  objects  was  entirely  cut  off. 

It  grew  very  late.    Turning  from  our  direct  course,  we 


294  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

made  for  the  river  at  its  nearest  point,  though  in  the  uttei 
darkness  it  was  not  easy  to  direct  our  way  with  much 
precision.  Raymond  rode  on  one  side  and  Henry  on  the 
other.  We  heard  each  of  them  shouting  that  he  had  come 
upon  a  deep  ravine.  We  steered  at  random  between 
Scylla  and  Charybdis,  and  soon  after  became  as  it  seemed 
inextricably  involved  with  deep  chasms  all  around  us, 
while  the  darkness  was  such  that  we  could  not  see  a  rod 
in  any  direction.  We  partially  extricated  ourselves  by 
scrambling,  cart  and  all,  through  a  shallow  ravine.  We 
came  next  to  a  steep  descent,  down  which  we  plunged 
without  well  knowing  what  was  at  the  bottom.  There 
was  a  great  cracking  of  sticks  and  dry  twigs.  Over  our 
heads  were  certain  large  shadowy  objects ;  and  in  front 
something  like  the  faint  gleaming  of  a  dark  sheet  of 
water.  Raymond  ran  his  horse  against  a  tree;  Henry- 
alighted,  and,  feeling  on  the  ground,  declared  that  there 
was  grass  enough  for  the  horses.  Before  taking  off  his 
saddle,  each  man  led  his  own  horses  down  to  the  water 
in  the  best  way  he  could.  Then  picketing  two  or  three 
of  the  evil-disposed,  we  turned  the  rest  loose,  and  lay 
down  among  the  dry  sticks  to  sleep.  In  the  morning  we 
found  ourselves  close  to  the  South  Fork  of  the  Platte,  on 
a  spot  surrounded  by  bushes  and  rank  grass.  Compen- 
sating ourselves  with  a  hearty  breakfast,  for  the  ill-fare  of 
the  previous  night,  we  set  forward  again  on  our  journey. 
When  only  two  or  three  rods  from  the  camp  I  saw  Shaw 
stop  his  mule,  level  his  gun,  and  fire  at  some  object  in  the 
grass.  Deslauriers  next  jumped  forward,  and  began  to 
dance  about,  belaboring  the  unseen  enemy  with  a  whip. 
Then  he  stooped  down,  and  drew  out  of  the  grass  by  the 
neck  an  enormous  rattlesnake,  with  his  head  completely 
shattered  by  Shaw's  bullet.  As  Deslauriers  held  him  out 
at  arm's  length  with  an  exulting  grin,  his  tail,  which  still 


THE   LONELY   JOURNEY.  295 

kept  slowly  writhing  about,  almost  touched  tne  ground; 
and  his  body  in  the  largest  part  was  as  thick  as  a  stout 
man's  arm.  He  had  fourteen  rattles,  but  the  end  of  his 
tail  was  blunted,  as  if  he  could  once  have  boasted  of  many 
more.  From  this  time  till  we  reached  the  Pueblo,  we 
killed  at  least  four  or  five  of  these  snakes  every  day,  as 
they  lay  coiled  and  rattling  on  the  hot  sand.  Shaw  was 
the  Saint  Patrick  of  the  party,  and  whenever  he  killed  a 
snake  he  pulled  off  his  tail  and  stored  it  away  in  his  bul- 
let-pouch, which  was  soon  crammed  with  an  edifying  col- 
lection of  rattles,  great  and  small.  Deslauriers  with  his 
whip  also  came  in  for  a  share  of  praise.  A  day  or  two 
after  this,  he  triumphantly  produced  a  small  snake  about 
a  span  and  a  half  long,  with  one  infant  rattle  at  the  end 
of  his  tail. 

We  forded  the  South  Fork  of  the  Platte.  On  its 
farther  bank  were  the  traces  of  a  very  large  camp  of 
Arapahoes.  The  ashes  of  some  three  hundred  fires  were 
visible  among  the  scattered  trees,  together  with  the  re- 
mains of  sweating  lodges,  and  all  the  other  appurte- 
nances of  a  permanent  camp.  The  place,  however,  had 
been  for  some  months  deserted.  A  few  miles  farther 
on  we  found  more  recent  signs  of  Indians ;  the  trail  of 
two  or  three  lodges,  which  had  evidently  passed  the  day 
before ;  every  footprint  was  perfectly  distinct  in  the  dry, 
dusty  soil.  We  noticed  in  particular  the  track  of  one 
moccasin,  upon  the  sole  of  which  its  economical  pro- 
prietor had  placed  a  large  patch.  These  signs  gave  us 
but  little  uneasiness,  as  the  number  of  the  warriors 
scarcely  exceeded  that  of  our  own  party.  At  noon  we 
rested  under  the  walls  of  a  large  fort,  built  in  these  soli- 
tudes some  years  since  by  M.  St.  Yrain.  It  was  now 
abandoned  and  fast  falling  into  ruin.  The  walls  of  un- 
baked bricks  were  cracked  from  top  to  bottom  Our 


296  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

horses  recoiled  in  terror  from  the  neglected  entrance, 
where  the  heavy  gates  were  torn  from  their  hinges  and 
flung  down.  The  area  within  was  overgrown  with  weeds, 
and  the  long  ranges  of  apartments  once  occupied  by  the 
motley  concourse  of  traders,  Canadians,  and  squaws,  were 
now  miserably  dilapidated.  Twelve  miles  farther  on,  near 
the  spot  where  we  encamped,  were  the  remains  of  another 
fort,  standing  in  melancholy  desertion  and  neglect. 

Early  on  the  following  morning  we  made  a  startling 
discovery.  We  passed  close  by  a  large  deserted  encamp- 
ment of  Arapahoes.  There  were  about  fifty  fires  still 
smouldering  on  the  ground,  and  it  was  evident  from  numer- 
ous signs  that  the  Indians  must  have  left  the  place  within 
two  hours  of  our  reaching  it.  Their  trail  crossed  our 
own,  at  right  angles,  and  led  in  the  direction  of  a  line  of 
hills,  half  a  mile  on  our  left.  There  were  women  and 
children  in  the  party,  which  would  have  greatly  dimin- 
ished the  danger  of  encountering  them.  Henry  Chatillon 
examined  the  encampment  and  the  trail  with  a  very 
professional  and  business-like  air. 

"  Supposing  we  had  met  them,  Henry  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "  we  hold  out  our  hands  to  them,  and 
give  them  all  we've  got;  they  take  away  every  thing, 
and  then  I  believe  they  no  kill  us.  Perhaps,"  added  he, 
looking  up  with  a  quiet  unchanged  face,  "perhaps  we 
no  let  them  rob  us.  Maybe  before  they  come  near,  we 
have  a  chance  to  get  into  a  ravine,  or  under  the  bank  of 
the  river;  then,  you  know,  we  fight  them." 

About  noon  on  that  day  we  reached  Cherry  Creek. 
Here  was  a  great  abundance  of  wild -cherries,  plums, 
gooseberries,  and  currants.  The  stream,  however,  like 
most  of  the  others  which  we  passed,  was  dried  up  with 
the  heat,  and  we  had  to  dig  holes  in  the  sand  to  find 
water  for  ourselves  and  our  horses.  Two  days  after,  we 


THE    LONELY    JOURNEY. 

left  the  banks  of  the  creek,  which  we  had  been  following 
for  some  time,  and  began  to  cross  the  high  dividing  ridge 
which  separates  the  waters  of  the  Platte  from  those  of 
the  Arkansas.  The  scenery  was  altogether  changed.  In 
place  of  the  burning  plains,  we  passed  through  rough  and 
savage  glens,  and  among  hills  crowned  with  a  dreary 
growth  of  pines.  We  encamped  among  these  solitudes 
on  the  night  of  the  sixteenth  of  August.  A  tempest  was 
threatening.  The  sun  went  down  among  volumes  of  jet- 
black  cloud,  edged  with  a  bloody  red.  But  in  spite  of 
these  portentous  signs,  we  neglected  to  put  up  the  tent, 
and,  being  extremely  fatigued,  lay  down  on  the  ground 
and  fell  asleep.  The  storm  broke  about  midnight,  and 
we  pitched  the  tent  amid  darkness  and  confusion.  In  the 
morning  all  was  fair  again,  and  Pike's  Peak,  white  with 
snow,  was  towering  above  the  wilderness  afar  off. 

We  pushed  through  an  extensive  tract  of  pine  woods. 
Large  black-squirrels  were  leaping  among  the  branches. 
From  the  farther  edge  of  this  forest  we  saw  the  prairie 
again,  hollowed  out  before  us  into  a  vast  basin,  and  about 
a  mile  in  front  we  could  discern  a  little  black  speck 
moving  upon  its  surface.  It  could  be  nothing  but  a  buf- 
falo. Henry  primed  his  rifle  afresh  and  galloped  forward. 
To  the  left  of  the  animal  was  a  low  rocky  mound,  of 
which  Henry  availed  himself  in  making  his  approach. 
After  a  short  time  we  heard  the  faint  report  of  the  rifle. 
The  bull,  mortally  wounded  from  a  distance  of  nearly 
three  hundred  yards,  ran  wildly  round  and  round  in  a 
circle.  Shaw  and  I  then  galloped  forward,  and  passing 
him  as  he  ran,  foaming  with  rage  and  pain,  discharged 
our  pistols  into  his  side.  Once  or  twice  he  rushed  furi- 
ously upon  us,  but  his  strength  was  rapidly  exhausted. 
Down  he  fell  on  his  knees.  For  one  instant  he  glared  up 
at  his  enemies,  with  burning  eyes,  through  his  black 


298  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

tangled  mane,  and  then  rolled  over  on  his  side.  Though 
gaunt  and  thin,  he  was  larger  and  heavier  than  the 
largest  ox.  Foam  and  blood  flew  together  from  his  nos- 
trils as  he  lay  bellowing  and  pawing  the  ground,  tearing 
up  grass  and  earth  with  his  hoofs.  His  sides  rose  and  fell 
like  a  vast  pair  of  bellows,  the  blood  spouting  up  in  jets 
from  the  bullet-holes.  Suddenly  his  glaring  eyes  became 
like  a  lifeless  jelly.  He  lay  motionless  on  the  ground. 
Henry  stooped  over  him,  and,  making  an  incision  with 
his  knife,  pronounced  the  meat  too  rank  and  tough  for 
use ;  so  disappointed  in  our  hopes  of  an  addition  to  our 
stock  of  provisions,  we  rode  away  and  left  the  carcass  to 
the  wolves. 

In  the  afternoon  we  saw  the  mountains  rising  like  a 
gigantic  wall  at  no  great  distance  on  our  right.  "Des 
sauvages!  des  sauvages  !  "  exclaimed  Deslauriers,  looking 
round  with  a  frightened  face,  and  pointing  with  his  whip 
towards  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  In  fact,  we  could  see 
at  a  distance  a  number  of  little  black  specks,  like  horse- 
men in  rapid  motion.  Henry  Chatillon,  with  Shaw  and 
myself,  galloped  towards  them  to  reconnoitre,  when  to 
our  amusement  we  saw  the  supposed  Arapahoes  resolved 
into  the  black  tops  of  some  pine-trees  which  grew  along 
a  ravine.  The  summits  of  these  pines,  just  visible  above 
the  verge  of  the  prairie,  and  seeming  to  move  as  we  our- 
selves were  advancing,  looked  exactly  like  a  line  of 
horsemen. 

We  encamped  among  ravines  and  hollows,  through 
which  a  little  brook  was  foaming  angrily.  Before  sunrise 
in  the  morning  the  snow-covered  mountains  were  beauti- 
fully tinged  with  a  delicate  rose  color.  A  noble  spectacle 
awaited  us  as  we  moved  forward.  Six  or  eight  miles  on 
our  right,  Pike's  Peak  and  his  giant  brethren  rose  out 
of  the  level  prairie,  as  if  springing  from  the  bed  of  the 


THE   LONELY   JOURNEY.  299 

ocean.  From  their  summits  down  to  the  plain  below 
they  were  involved  in  a  mantle  of  clouds,  in  restless 
motion,  as  if  urged  by  strong  winds.  For  one  instant 
some  snowy  peak,  towering  in  awful  solitude,  would  be 
disclosed  to  view.  As  the  clouds  broke  along  the  moun- 
tain, we  could  see  the  dreary  forests,  the  tremendous 
precipices,  the  white  patches  of  snow,  the  gulfs  and 
chasms  as  black  as  night,  all  revealed  for  an  instant, 
and  then  disappearing  from  the  view. 

On  the  day  after,  we  had  left  the  mountains  at  some 
distance.  A  black  cloud  descended  upon  them,  and  a 
tremendous  explosion  of  thunder  followed,  reverberating 
among  the  precipices.  In  a  few  moments  every  thing 
grew  black,  and  the  rain  poured  down  like  a  cataract. 
We  got  under  an  old  cotton-wood  tree,  which  stood  by 
the  side  of  a  stream,  and  waited  there  till  the  rage  of 
the  torrent  had  passed. 

The  clouds  opened  at  the  point  where  they  first  had 
gathered,  and  the  whole  sublime  congregation  of  moun- 
tains was  bathed  at  once  in  warm  sunshine.  They  seemed 
more  like  some  vision  of  eastern  romance  than  like  a 
reality  of  that  wilderness ;  all  were  melted  together  into 
a  soft  delicious  blue,  as  voluptuous  as  the  sky  of  Naples 
or  the  transparent  sea  that  washes  the  sunny  cliffs  of 
Capri.  On  the  left  the  sky  was  still  of  an  inky  blackness ; 
but  two  concentric  rainbows  stood  in  bright  relief  against 
it,  while  far  in  front  the  ragged  clouds  still  streamed 
before  the  wind,  and  the  retreating  uhunder  muttered 
angrily. 

Through  that  afternoon  and  the  next  morning  we  were 
passing  down  the  banks  of  the  stream,  called  "  Boiling 
Spring  Creek,"  from  the  boiling  spring  whose  waters 
flow  into  it.  When  we  stopped  at  noon,  we  were  within 
six  or  eight  miles  of  the  Pueblo.  Sotting  out  again,  we 


300  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

found  by  the  fresh  tracks  that  a  horseman  had  just  been 
out  to  reconnoitre  us ;  he  had  circled  half  round  the  camp, 
and  then  galloped  back  at  full  speed  for  the  Pueblo. 
What  made  him  so  shy  of  us  we  could  not  conceive. 
After  an  hour's  ride  we  reached  the  edge  of  a  hill,  from 
which  a-  welcome  sight  greeted  us.  The  Arkansas  ran 
along  the  valley  below,  among  woods  and  groves,  and 
closely  nestled  in  the  midst  of  wide  cornfields  and  green 
meadows,  where  cattle  were  grazing,  rose  the  low  mud 
walls  of  the  Pueblo. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  PUEBLO  AND  BENT'S  FORT. 

WE  approached  the  gate  of  the  Pueblo.  It  was  a 
wretched  species  of  fort,  of  most  primitive  con- 
struction, being  nothing  more  than  a  large  square  in- 
closure,  surrounded  by  a  wall  of  mud,  miserably  cracked 
and  dilapidated.  The  slender  pickets  that  surmounted 
it  were  half  broken  down,  and  the  gate  dangled  on  its 
wooden  hinges  so  loosely,  that  to  open  or  shut  it  seemed 
likely  to  fling  it  down  altogether.  Two  or  three  squalid 
Mexicans,  with  their  broad  hats,  and  their  vile  faces  over- 
grown with  hair,  were  lounging  about  the  bank  of  the 
river  in  front  of  it.  They  disappeared  as  they  saw  us 
approach ;  and  as  we  rode  up  to  the  gate,  a  light  active 
little  figure  came  out  to  meet  us.  It  was  our  old  friend 
Richard.  He  had  come  from  Fort  Laramie  on  a  trading 
expedition  to  Taos;  but  finding  when  he  reached  the 
Pueblo  that  the  war  would  prevent  his  going  farther,  he 
was  quietly  waiting  till  the  conquest  of  the  country  should 
allow  him  to  proceed.  He  seemed  to  feel  bound  to  do  the 
honors  of  the  place.  Shaking  us  warmly  by  the  hand,  he 
led  the  way  into  the  area. 

Here  we  saw  his  large  Santa  Fe*  wagons  standing  to- 
gether. A  few  squaws  and  Spanish  women,  and  a  few 
Mexicans,  as  mean  and  miserable  as  the  place  itself,  were 
lazily  sauntering  about.  Richard  conducted  us  to  the 
state  apartment  of  the  Pueblo,  a  small  mud  room,  very 


302  THE   OKEGON   TRAIL. 

neatly  finished,  considering  the  material,  and  garnished 
with  a  crucifix,  a  looking-glass,  a  picture  of  the  Virgin, 
and  a  rusty  horse-pistol.  There  were  no  chairs,  but  in- 
stead of  them  a  number  of  chests  and  boxes  ranged  about 
the  room.  There  was  another  room  beyond,  less  sumptu- 
ously decorated,  and  here  three  or  four  Spanish  girls,  one 
of  them  very  prettjr,  were  baking  cakes  at  a  mud  fire- 
place in  the  corner.  They  brought  out  a  poncho,  which 
they  spread  upon  the  floor  by  way  of  table-cloth.  A 
supper,  which  seemed  to  us  luxurious,  was  soon  laid  out 
upon  it,  and  folded  buffalo-robes  were  placed  around  it  to 
receive  the  guests.  Two  or  three  Americans  besides  our- 
selves were  present.  We  sat  down  in  Turkish  fashion, 
and  began  to  ask  the  news.  Richard  told  us  that,  about 
three  weeks  before,  General  Kearney's  army  had  left 
Bent's  Fort  to  march  against  Santa  Fd ;  that  when  last 
heard  from  they  were  approaching  the  defiles  that  led  to 
the  city.  One  of  the  Americans  produced  a  dingy  news- 
paper, containing  an  account  of  the  battles  of  Palo  Alto 
and  Resaca  de  la  Palma.  While  we  were  discussing 
these  matters,  the  doorway  was  darkened  by  a  tall, 
shambling  fellow,  who  stood  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets 
taking  a  leisurely  survey  of  the  premises  before  he  entered. 
He  wore  brown  homespun  trousers,  much  too  short  for 
his  legs,  and  a  pistol  and  bowie-knife  stuck  in  his  belt. 
His  head  and  one  eye  were  enveloped  in  a  huge  bandage 
of  linen.  Having  completed  his  observations,  he  came 
slouching  in,  and  sat  down  on  a  chest.  Eight  or  ten 
more  of  the  same  stamp  followed,  and  very  coolly  arrang- 
ing themselves  about  the  room,  began  to  stare  at  the 
company.  We  were  forcibly  reminded  of  the  Oregon 
emigrants,  though  these  unwelcome  visitors  had  a  certain 
glitter  of  the  eye,  and  a  compression  of  the  lips,  which 
distinguished  them  from  our  old  acquaintances  of  the 


THE  PUEBLO  AND  BENT'S  FORT.      303 

prairie.  They  began  to  catechise  us  at  once,  inquiring 
whence  we  had  come,  what  we  meant  to  do  next,  and 
what  were  our  prospects  in  life. 

The  man  with  the  bandaged  head  had  met  with  an  un- 
toward accident  a  few  days  before.  He  was  going  down 
to  the  river  to  bring  water,  and  was  pushing  through  the 
young  willows  which  covered  the  low  ground  when  he 
came  unawares  upon  a  grizzly  bear,  which,  having  just 
eaten  a  buffalo-bull,  had  lain  down  to  sleep  off  the  meal. 
The  bear  rose  on  his  hind  legs,  and  gave  the  intruder 
such  a  blow  with  his  paw  that  he  laid  his  forehead  en- 
tirely bare,  clawed  off  the  front  of  his  scalp,  and  narrowly 
missed  one  of  his  eyes.  Fortunately  he  was  not  in  a  very 
pugnacious  mood,  being  surfeited  with  his  late  meal. 
The  man's  companions,  who  were  close  behind,  raised  a 
shout,  and  the  bear  walked  away,  crushing  down  the 
willows  in  his  leisurely  retreat. 

These  men  belonged  to  a  party  of  Mormons,  who,  out 
of  a  well-grounded  fear  of  the  other  emigrants,  had  post- 
poned leaving  the  settlements  until  all  the  rest  were  gone. 
On  account  of  this  delay,  they  did  not  reach  Fort  Laramie 
until  it  was  too  late  to  continue  their  journey  to  California. 
Hearing  that  there  was  good  land  at  the  head  of  the 
Arkansas,  they  crossed  over  under  the  guidance  of  Rich- 
ard, and  were  now  preparing  to  spend  the  winter  at  a 
spot  about  half  a  mile  from  the  Pueblo. 

When  we  took  leave  of  Richard  it  was  near  sunset. 
Passing  out  of  the  gate,  we  could  look  down  the  little 
valley  of  the  Arkansas ;  a  beautiful  scene,  and  doubly  so 
to  our  eyes,  so  long  accustomed  to  deserts  and  mountains. 
Tall  woods  lined  the  river,  with  green  meadows  on  either 
hand ;  and  high  bluffs,  quietly  basking  in  the  sunlight, 
flanked  the  narrow  valley.  A  Mexican  on  horseback 
was  driving  a  herd  of  cattle  towards  the  gate,  and  our 


304  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

little  white  tent,  which  the  men  had  pitched  under  a  tree 
in  the  meadow,  made  a  pleasing  feature  in  the  scene. 
When  we  reached  it,  we  found  that  Richard  had  sent  a 
Mexican  to  bring  us  an  abundant  supply  of  green  corn 
and  vegetables,  and  invite  us  to  help  ourselves  to  what- 
ever we  wanted  from  the  fields  around  the  Pueblo. 

The  inhabitants  were  in  daily  apprehension  of  an  in- 
road from  more  formidable  consumers  than  we.  Every 
year,  at  the  time  when  the  corn  begins  to  ripen,  the 
Arapahoes,  to  the  number  of  several  thousands,  come 
and  encamp  around  the  Pueblo.  The  handful  of  white 
men,  who  are  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  this  swarm  of 
barbarians,  choose  to  make  a  merit  of  necessity;  they 
come  forward  very  cordially,  shake  them  by  the  hand,  and 
tell  them  that  the  harvest  is  entirely  at  their  disposal. 
The  Arapahoes  take  them  at  their  word,  help  themselves 
most  liberally,  and  usually  turn  their  horses  into  the 
cornfields  afterwards.  They  have  the  foresight,  however, 
to  leave  enough  of  the  crops  untouched  to  serve  as  an 
inducement  for  planting  the  fields  again  for  their  benefit 
in  the  next  spring. 

The  human  race  in  this  part  of  the  world  is  separated 
into  three  divisions,  arranged  in  the  order  of  their  merits : 
white  men,  Indians,  and  Mexicans ;  to  the  latter  of  whom 
the  honorable  title  of  "  whites  "  is  by  no  means  conceded. 

In  spite  of  the  warm  sunset  of  that  evening  the  next 
morning  was  a  dreary  and  cheerless  one.  It  rained 
steadily,  clouds  resting  upon  the  very  tree-tops.  We 
crossed  the  river  to  visit  the  Mormon  settlement.  As 
we  passed  through  the  water,  several  trappers  on  horse- 
back entered  it  from  the  other  side.  Their  buckskin 
frocks  were  soaked  through  by  the  rain,  and  clung  fast  to 
their  limbs  with  a  most  clammy  and  uncomfortable  look. 
The  water  was  trickling  down  their  faces,  and  dropping 


THE  PUEBLO  AND  BENl's  FORT.      305 

from  the  ends  of  their  rifles  and  from  the  traps  which 
each  carried  at  the  pommel  of  his  saddle.  Horses  and  all, 
they  had  a  disconsolate  and  woe-begone  appearance,  which 
we  could  not  help  laughing  at,  forgetting  how  often  we 
ourselves  had  been  in  a  similar  plight. 

After  half  an  hour's  riding,  we  saw  the  white  wagons 
of  the  Mormons  drawn  up  among  the  trees.  Axes  were 
sounding,  trees  falling,  and  log-huts  rising  along  the  edge 
of  the  woods  and  upon  the  adjoining  meadow.  As  we 
came  up,  the  Mormons  left  their  work,  seated  themselves 
on  the  timber  around  us,  and  began  earnestly  to  discuss 
points  of  theology,  complain  of  the  ill-usage  they  had 
received  from  the  "Gentiles,"  and  sound  a  lamentation 
over  the  loss  of  their  great  temple  of  Nauvoo.  After 
remaining  with  them  an  hour  we  rode  back  to  our  camp, 
happy  that  the  settlements  had  been  delivered  from  the 
presence  of  such  blind  and  desperate  fanatics. 

On  the  following  morning  we  left  the  Pueblo  for  Bent's 
Fort.  The  conduct  of  Raymond  had  lately  been  less 
satisfactory  than  before,  and  we  had  discharged  him  as 
soon  as  we  arrived  at  the  former  place ;  so  that  the  party, 
ourselves  included,  was  now  reduced  to  four.  There  was 
some  uncertainty  as  to  our  future  course.  The  trail  be- 
tween Bent's  Fort  and  the  settlements,  a  distance  com- 
puted at  six  hundred  miles,  was  at  this  time  in  a  dangerous 
state ;  for  since  the  passage  of  General  Kearney's  army, 
great  numbers  of  hostile  Indians,  chiefly  Pawnees  and 
Camanches,  had  gathered  about  some  parts  of  it.  They 
became  soon  after  so  numerous  and  audacious,  that 
scarcely  a  single  party,  however  large,  passed  between 
the  fort  and  the  frontier  without  some  token  of  their 
hostility.  The  newspapers  of  the  time  sufficiently  dis- 
play this  state  of  things.  Many  men  were  killed,  and 
great  numbers  of  horses  and  mules  carried  off.  Not  long 

20 


306  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

since  I  met  with  a  young  man,  who,  during  the  autumn, 
came  from  Santa  F^  to  Bent's  Fort,  where  he  found  a 
party  of  seventy  men,  who  thought  themselves  too  weak 
to  go  down  to  the  settlements  alone,  and  were  waiting 
there  for  a  reinforcement.  Though  this  excessive  timidity 
proves  the  ignorance  of  the  men,  it  may  also  evince  the 
state  of  alarm  which  prevailed  in  the  country.  When 
we  were  there  in  the  month  of  August,  the  danger  had 
not  become  so  great.  There  was  nothing  very  attractive 
in  the  neighborhood.  We  supposed,  moreover,  that  we 
might  wait  there  half  the  winter  without  finding  any 
party  to  go  down  with  us ;  for  Sublette  and  the  others 
whom  we  had  relied  upon  had,  as  Richard  told  us,  already 
left  Bent's  Fort.  Thus  far  on  our  journey  Fortune  had 
kindly  befriended  us.  We  resolved  therefore  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  her  gracious  mood,  and  trusting  for  a  continu- 
ance of  her  favors,  to  set  out  with  Henry  and  Deslauriers, 
and  run  the  gauntlet  of  the  Indians  in  the  best  way  we 
could. 

Bent's  Fort  stands  on  the  river,  about  seventy-five  miles 
below  the  Pueblo.  At  noon  of  the  third  day  we  arrived 
within  three  or  four  miles  of  it,  pitched  our  tent  under  a 
tree,  hung  our  looking-glasses  against  its  trunk,  and  hav- 
ing made  our  primitive  toilet,  rode  towards  the  fort.  We 
soon  came  in  sight  of  it,  for  it  is  visible  from  a  consider- 
able distance,  standing  with  its  high  clay  walls  in  the 
midst  of  the  scorching  plains.  It  seemed  as  if  a  swarm 
of  locusts  had  invaded  the  country.  The  grass  for  miles 
around  was  cropped  close  by  the  horses  of  General  Kear- 
ney's soldiery.  When  we  came  to  the  fort,  we  found  that 
not  only  had  the  horses  eaten  up  the  grass,  but  their 
owners  had  made  way  with  the  stores  of  the  little  trading 
post ;  so  that  we  had  great  difficulty  in  procuring  the 
few  articles  which  we  required  for  our  homeward  journey. 


THE  PUEBLO  AND  BENT'S  FORT.      307 

The  army  was  gone,  the  life  and  bustle  passed  away,  and 
the  fort  was  a  scene  of  dull  and  lazy  tranquillity.  A  few 
invalid  officers  and  soldiers  sauntered  about  the  area, 
which  was  oppressively  hot;  for  the  glaring  sun  was  re- 
flected down  upon  it  from  the  high  white  walls  around. 
The  proprietors  were  absent,  and  we  were  received  by  Mr. 
Holt,  who  had  been  left  in  charge  of  the  fort.  He  invited 
us  to  dinner,  where,  to  our  admiration,  we  found  a  table 
laid  with  a  white  cloth,  with  castors  in  the  middle,  and 
chairs  placed  around  it.  This  unwonted  repast  con- 
cluded, we  rode  back  to  our  camp. 

Here,  as  we  lay  smoking  round  the  fire  after  supper, 
we  saw  through  the  dusk  three  men  approaching  from  the 
direction  of  the  fort.  They  rode  up  and  seated  them- 
selves near  us  on  the  ground.  The  foremost  was  a  tall, 
well-formed  man,  with  a  face  and  manner  such  as  inspire 
confidence  at  once.  He  wore  a  broad  hat  of  felt,  slouch- 
ing and  tattered,  and  the  rest  of  his  attire  consisted  of  a 
frock  and  leggins  of  buckskin,  rubbed  with  the  yellow 
clay  found  among  the  mountains.  At  the  heel  of  one  of 
his  moccasins  was  buckled  a  huge  iron  spur,  with  a  rowel 
five  or  six  inches  in  diameter.  His  horse,  which  stood 
quietly  looking  over  his  head,  had  a  rude  Mexican  saddle, 
covered  with  a  shaggy  bear-skin,  and  furnished  with  a 
pair  of  wooden  stirrups  of  preposterous  size.  The  next 
man  was  a  sprightly,  active  little  fellow,  about  five  feet 
and  a  quarter  high,  but  very  strong  and  compact.  His 
face  was  swarthy  as  a  Mexican's,  and  covered  with  a  close, 
curly,  black  beard.  An  old,  greasy,  calico  handkerchief 
was  tied  round  his  head,  and  his  close  buckskin  dress  was 
blackened  and  polished  by  grease  and  hard  service.  The 
last  who  came  up  was  a  large,  strong  man,  dressed  in  the 
coarse  homespun  of  the  frontiers,  who  dragged  his  long 
limbs  over  the  ground  as  if  he  were  too  lazy  for  the  effort. 


308  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

He  had  a  sleepy  gray  eye,  a  retreating  chin,  an  open 
mouth,  and  a  protruding  upper  lip,  which  gave  him  an 
air  of  exquisite  indolence  and  helplessness.  He  was 
armed  with  an  old  United  States  yager,  which  redoubt- 
able weapon,  though  he  could  never  hit  his  mark  with  it, 
he  was  accustomed  to  cherish  as  the  very  sovereign  of 
firearms. 

The  first  two  men  belonged  to  a  party  who  had  just 
come  from  California,  with  a  large  band  of  horses,  which 
they  had  sold  at  Bent's  Fort.  Munroe,  the  taller  of  the 
two,  was  from  Iowa.  He  was  an  excellent  fellow,  open, 
warm-hearted,  and  intelligent.  Jim  Gurney,  the  short 
man,  was  a  Boston  sailor,  who  had  come  in  a  trading  ves- 
sel to  California,  and  taken  the  fancy  to  return  across  the 
continent.  The  journey  had  already  made  him  an  ex- 
pert "  mountain-man, "  and  he  presented  the  extraordinary 
phenomenon  of  a  sailor  who  understood  how  to  manage  a 
horse.  The  third  of  our  visitors,  named  Ellis,  was  a 
Missourian,  who  had  come  out  with  a  party  of  Oregon 
emigrants,  but  having  got  as  far  as  Bridger's  Fort,  he 
had  fallen  home-sick,  or  as  Jim  averred,  love-sick.  He 
thought  proper  therefore  to  join  the  California  men,  and 
return  homeward  in  their  company. 

They  now  requested  that  they  might  unite  with  our 
party,  and  make  the  journey  to  the  settlements  in  com- 
pany with  us.  We  readily  assented,  for  we  liked  the 
appearance  of  the  first  two  men,  and  were  very  glad  to 
gain  so  efficient  a  reinforcement.  We  told  them  to 
meet  us  on  the  next  evening  at  a  spot  on  the  river  side, 
about  six  miles  below  the  fort.  Having  smoked  a  pipe 
together,  our  new  allies  left  us,  and  we  lay  down  to 
sleep. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

TETE  ROUGE,  THE  VOLUNTEER. 

THE  next  morning,  having  directed  Deslauriers  to  re- 
pair with  his  cart  to  the  place  of  meeting,  we  came 
again  to  the  fort  to  make  some  arrangements  for  the 
journey.  After  completing  these  we  sat  down  under  a 
sort  of  porch,  to  smoke  with  some  Shienne  Indians  whom 
we  found  there.  In  a  few  minutes  we  saw  an  extraordi- 
nary little  figure  approach  us  in  a  military  dress.  He 
had  a  small,  round  countenance,  garnished  ahout  the 
eyes  with  the  kind  of  wrinkles  commonly  known  as 
crow's  feet,  and  surmounted  by  an  abundant  crop  of  red 
curls,  with  a  little  cap  resting  on  the  top  of  them.  Alto- 
gether, he  had  the  look  of  a  man  more  conversant  with 
mint- juleps  and  oyster  suppers  than  with  the  hardships  of 
prairie-service.  He  came  up  to  us  and  entreated  that  we 
would  take  him  home  to  the  settlements,  saying  that  un- 
less he  went  with  us  he  should  have  to  stay  all  winter  at 
the  fort.  We  liked  our  petitioner's  appearance  so  little, 
that  we  excused  ourselves  from  complying  with  his  re- 
quest. At  this  he  begged  us  so  hard  to  take  pity  on 
him,  looked  so  disconsolate,  and  told  so  lamentable  a 
story,  that  at  last  we  consented,  though  not  without 
many  misgivings. 

The  rugged  Anglo-Saxon  of  our  new  recruit's  real 
name  proved  utterly  unmanageable  on  the  lips  of  our 
French  attendants ;  and  Henry  Chatillon,  after  various 


310  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

abortive  attempts  to  pronounce  it,  one  day  coolly  christ- 
ened him  Tete  Rouge,  in  honor  of  his  red  curls.  He  had 
at  different  times  been  clerk  of  a  Mississippi  steamboat, 
and  agent  in  a  trading  establishment  at  Nauvoo,  besides 
filling  various  other  capacities,  in  all  of  which  he  had 
seen  much  more  of  "life  "  than  was  good  for  him.  In 
the  spring,  thinking  that  a  summer's  campaign  would  be 
an  agreeable  recreation,  he  had  joined  a  company  of  St. 
Louis  volunteers. 

"There  were  three  of  us,"  said  Tete  Rouge,  "me  and 
Bill  Stephens  and  John  Hopkins.  We  thought  we  would 
just  go  out  with  the  army,  and  when  we  had  conquered 
the  country,  we  would  get  discharged  and  take  our  pay, 
you  know,  and  go  down  to  Mexico.  They  say  there's 
plenty  of  fun  going  on  there.  Then  we  could  go  back  to 
New  Orleans  by  way  of  Vera  Cruz." 

But  Tete  Rouge,  like  many  a  stouter  volunteer,  had 
reckoned  without  his  host.  Fighting  Mexicans  was  a  less 
amusing  occupation  than  he  had  supposed,  and  his  plea- 
sure trip  was  disagreeably  interrupted  by  brain  fever, 
which  attacked  him  when  about  half  way  to  Bent's  Fort. 
He  jolted  along  through  the  rest  of  the  journey  in  a 
baggage -wagon.  When  they  came  to  the  fort  he  was 
taken  out  and  left  there,  with  the  rest  of  the  sick.  Bent's 
Fort  does  not  supply  the  best  accommodations  for  an 
invalid.  Tete  Rouge's  sick-chamber  was  a  little  mud 
room,  where  he  and  a  companion,  attacked  by  the  same 
disease,  were  laid  together,  with  nothing  but  a  buffalo- 
robe  between  them  and  the  ground.  The  assistant- 
surgeon's  deputy  visited  them  once  a  day  and  brought 
them  each  a  huge  dose  of  calomel,  the  only  medicine, 
according  to  his  surviving  victim,  with  which  he  was 
acquainted. 

Tete  Rouge  woke  one  morning,  and  turning  to  his  com- 


TETE  ROUGE,  THE  VOLUNTEER.      311 

panion  saw  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  beams  above  with  the 
glassy  stare  of  a  dead  man.  At  this  the  unfortunate  vol- 
unteer lost  his  senses  outright.  In  spite  of  the  doctor, 
however,  he  eventually  recovered;  though  between  the 
brain  fever  and  the  calomel,  his  mind,  originally  none  of 
the  strongest,  was  so  much  shaken  that  it  had  not  quite 
recovered  its  balance  when  we  came  to  the  fort.  In 
spite  of  the  poor  fellow's  tragic  story,  there  was  some- 
thing so  ludicrous  in  his  appearance,  and  the  whimsical 
contrast  between  his  military  dress  and  his  most  unmili- 
tary  demeanor,  that  we  could  not  help  smiling  at  them. 
We  asked  him  if  he  had  a  gun.  He  said  they  had  taken 
it  from  him  during  his  illness,  and  he  had  not  seen  it 
since ;  but  "  perhaps, "  he  observed,  looking  at  me  with  a 
beseeching  air,  "you  will  lend  me  one  of  your  big  pistols 
if  we  should  meet  with  any  Indians."  I  next  inquired  if 
he  had  a  horse ;  he  declared  he  had  a  magnificent  one, 
and  at  Shaw's  request,  a  Mexican  led  him  in  for  inspec- 
tion. He  exhibited  the  outline  of  a  good  horse,  but  his 
eyes  were  sunk  in  the  sockets,  and  every  one  of  his  ribs 
could  be  counted.  There  were  certain  marks  too  about 
his  shoulders,  which  could  be  accounted  for  by  the  cir- 
cumstance, that  during  Tete  Rouge's  illness,  his  compan- 
ions had  seized  upon  the  insulted  charger,  and  harnessed 
him  to  a  cannon  along  with  the  draft  horses.  To  Tete 
Rouge's  astonishment  we  recommended  him  by  all  means 
to  exchange  the  horse,  if  he  could,  for  a  mule.  Fortu- 
nately the  people  at  the  fort  were  so  anxious  to  get  rid 
of  him  that  they  were  willing  to  make  some  sacrifice  to 
effect  the  object,  and  he  succeeded  in  getting  a  tolerable 
mule  in  exchange  for  the  broken-down  steed. 

A  man  soon  appeared  at  the  gate,  leading  in  the  mule 
by  a  cord,  which  he  placed  in  the  hands  of  T§te  Rouge, 
who,  being  somewhat  afraid  of  his  new  acquisition,  tried 


312  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

various  flatteries  and  blandishments  to  induce  her  to 
come  forward.  The  mule,  knowing  that  she  was  expected 
to  advance,  stopped  short  in  consequence,  and  stood  fast 
as  a  rock,  looking  straight  forward  with  immovable  com- 
posure. Being  stimulated  by  a  blow  from  behind,  she 
consented  to  move,  and  walked  nearly  to  the  other  side 
of  the  fort  before  she  stopped  again.  Hearing  the  by- 
standers laugh,  Tete  Rouge  plucked  up  spirit  and  tugged 
hard  at  the  rope.  The  mule  jerked  backward,  spun  her- 
self round,  and  made  a  dash  for  the  gate.  Tete  Rouge, 
who  clung  manfully  to  the  rope,  went  whisking  through 
the  air  for  a  few  rods,  when  he  let  go  and  stood  with 
his  mouth  open,  staring  after  the  mule,  which  galloped 
away  over  the  prairie.  She  was  soon  caught  and  brought 
back  by  a  Mexican,  who  mounted  a  horse  and  went  in 
pursuit  of  her  with  his  lasso. 

Having  thus  displayed  his  capacities  for  prairie  travel- 
ling, Tete  Rouge  proceeded  to  supply  himself  with  provi- 
sions for  the  journey,  and  with  this  view  applied  to  a 
quarter-master's  assistant  who  was  in  the  fort.  This 
official  had  a  face  as  sour  as  vinegar,  being  in  a  state  of 
chronic  indignation  because  he  had  been  left  behind  the 
army.  He  was  as  anxious  as  the  rest  to  get  rid  of  Tgte 
Rouge.  So,  producing  a  rusty  key,  he  opened  a  low  door 
which  led  to  a  half  subterranean  apartment,  into  which 
the  two  disappeared  together.  After  some  time  they  cams, 
out  again,  Tete  Rouge  greatly  embarrassed  by  a  multi- 
plicity of  paper  parcels  containing  the  different  articles  of 
his  forty  days'  rations.  They  were  consigned  to  the  care 
of  Deslauriers,  who  about  that  time  passed  by  with  the 
cart  on  his  way  to  the  appointed  place  of  meeting  with 
Munroe  and  his  companions. 

We  next  urged  Tgte  Rouge  to  provide  himself,  if  he 
could,  with  a  gun.  He  accordingly  made  earnest  appeals 


TETE  ROUGE,  THE  VOLUNTEER.      313 

to  the  charity  of  various  persons  in  the  fort,  but  totally 
without  success,  a  circumstance  which  did  not  greatly 
disturb  us,  since  in  the  event  of  a  skirmish,  he  would  be 
more  apt  to  do  mischief  to  himself  or  his  friends  than  to 
the  enemy.  When  all  these  arrangements  were  com- 
pleted, we  saddled  our  horses,  and  were  preparing  to 
leave  the  fort,  when  looking  round  we  discovered  that 
our  new  associate  was  in  fresh  trouble.  A  man  was  hold- 
ing the  mule  for  him  in  the  middle  of  the  fort,  while  he 
tried  to  put  the  saddle  on  her  back,  but  she  kept  stepping 
sideways  and  moving  round  and  round  in  a  circle  until 
he  was  almost  in  despair.  It  required  some  assistance 
before  all  his  difficulties  could  be  overcome.  At  length 
he  clambered  into  the  black  war-saddle  on  which  he  was 
to  have  carried  terror  into  the  ranks  of  the  Mexicans. 

"  Get  up, "  said  Tete  Rouge ;  "  come  now,  go  along,  will 
you." 

The  mule  walked  deliberately  forward  out  of  the  gate. 
Her  recent  conduct  had  inspired  him  with  so  much  awe, 
that  he  never  dared  to  touch  her  with  his  whip.  We 
trotted  forward  toward  the  place  of  meeting,  but  before 
we  had  gone  far,  we  saw  that  Tete  Rouge's  mule,  who 
perfectly  understood  her  rider,  had  stopped  and  was  quietly 
grazing  in  spite  of  his  protestations,  at  some  distance 
behind.  So  getting  behind  him,  we  drove  him  and  the 
contumacious  mule  before  us,  until  we  could  see  through 
the  twilight  the  gleaming  of  a  distant  fire.  Munroe, 
Jim,  and  Ellis  were  lying  around  it ;  their  saddles,  packs, 
and  weapons  were  scattered  about,  and  their  horses 
picketed  near  them.  Deslauriers  was  there  too  with  our 
little  cart.  Another  fire  was  soon  blazing.  We  invited 
our  new  allies  to  take  a  cup  of  coffee  with  us.  When 
both  the  others  had  gone  over  to  their  side  of  the  camp, 
Jim  Gurney  still  stood  by  the  blaze,  puffing  hard  at 


314  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

his  little  black  pipe,  as  short  and  weather-beaten  as 
himself. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "here  are  eight  of  us;  we'll  call  it 
six  —  for  them  two  boobies,  Ellis  over  yonder,  and  that 
new  man  of  yours,  won't  count  for  any  thing.  We'll  get 
through  well  enough,  never  fear  for  that,  unless  the 
Camanches  happen  to  get  foul  of  us." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

INDIAN  ALAKMS. 

T  T  7E  began  our  journey  for  the  settlements  on  the 
V  V  twenty-seventh  of  August,  and  certainly  a  more 
ragamuffin  cavalcade  never  was  seen  on  the  banks  of  the 
Upper  Arkansas.  Of  the  large  and  fine  horses  with 
which  we  had  left  the  frontier  in  the  spring,  not  one  re- 
mained :  we  had  supplied  their  place  with  the  rough  breed 
of  the  prairie,  as  hardy  as  mules  and  almost  as  ugly;  we 
had  a]so  with  us  a  number  of  the  latter  detestable  animals. 
In  spite  of  their  strength  and  hardihood,  several  of  the  band 
were  already  worn  down  by  hard  service  and  hard  fare,  and 
as  none  of  them  were  shod,  they  were  fast  becoming  foot- 
sore. Every  horse  and  mule  had  a  cord  of  twisted  bull- 
hide  coiled  about  his  neck,  which  by  no  means  added  to 
the  beauty  of  his  appearance.  Our  saddles  and  all  our 
equipments  were  worn  and  battered,  and  our  weapons  had 
become  dull  and  rusty.  The  dress  of  the  riders  corre- 
sponded with  the  dilapidated  furniture  of  our  horses,  and 
of  the  whole  party  none  made  a  more  disreputable  ap- 
pearance than  my  friend  and  I.  Shaw  had  for  an  upper 
garment  an  old  red  flannel  shirt,  flying  open  in  front,  and 
belted  around  him  like  a  frock;  while  I,  in  absence  of 
other  clothing,  was  attired  in  a  time-worn  suit  of  buck- 
skin. 

Thus,  happy  and  careless  as  so  many  beggars,  we  crept 
slowly  from  day  to  day  along  the  monotonous  banks  of 


316  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

the  Arkansas.  Tete  Rouge  gave  constant  trouble,  for  he 
could  never  catch  his  mule,  saddle  her,  or  indeed  do  any 
thing  else  without  assistance.  Every  day  he  had  some 
new  ailment,  real  or  imaginary,  to  complain  of.  At  one 
moment  he  would  he  woe-hegone  and  disconsolate,  and  at 
the  next  he  would  be  visited  with  a  violent  flow  of  spirits, 
to  which  he  could  only  give  vent  by  incessant  laughing, 
whistling,  and  telling  stories.  When  other  resources 
failed,  we  used  to  amuse  ourselves  by  tormenting  him ;  a 
fair  compensation  for  the  trouble  he  cost  us.  Tete  Rouge 
rather  enjoyed  being  laughed  at,  for  he  was  an  odd  com- 
pound of  weakness,  eccentricity,  and  good-nature.  He 
made  a  figure  worthy  of  a  painter  as  he  paced  along  be- 
fore us,  perched  on  the  back  of  his  mule,  and  enveloped 
in  a  huge  buffalo-robe  coat,  which  some  charitable  person 
had  given  him  at  the  fort.  This  extraordinary  garment, 
which  would  have  contained  two  men  of  his  size,  he  chose, 
for  some  reason  best  known  to  himself,  to  wear  inside  out, 
and  he  never  took  it  off,  even  in  the  hottest  weather.  It 
was  fluttering  all  over  with  seams  and  tatters,  and  the 
hide  was  so  old  and  rotten  that  it  broke  out  every  day  in 
a  new  place.  Just  at  the  top  of  it  a  large  pile  of  red  curls 
was  visible,  with  his  little  cap  set  jauntily  upon  one  side, 
to  give  him  a  military  air.  His  seat  in  the  saddle  was 
no  less  remarkable  than  his  person  and  equipment.  He 
pressed  one  leg  close  against  his  mule's  side,  and  thrust 
the  other  out  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees.  His 
trousers  were  decorated  with  a  military  red  stripe,  of 
which  he  was  extremely  vain ;  but  being  much  too  short, 
the  whole  length  of  his  boots  was  usually  visible  below 
them.  His  blanket,  loosely  rolled  up  into  a  large  bundle, 
dangled  at  the  back  of  his  saddle,  where  he  carried  it  tied 
with  a  string.  Four  or  five  times  a  day  it  would  fall  to 
the  ground.  Every  few  minutes  he  would  drop  his  pipe, 


INDIAN   ALARMS.  317 

his  knife,  his  flint  and  steel,  or  a  piece  of  tobacco,  and 
scramble  down  to  pick  them  up.  In  doing  this  he  would 
contrive  to  get  in  everybody's  way;  and  as  most  of  the 
party  were  by  no  means  remarkable  for  a  fastidious  choice 
of  language,  a  storm  of  anathemas  would  be  showered 
upon  him,  half  in  earnest  and  half  in  jest,  until  Tete 
Rouge  would  declare  that  there  was  no  comfort  in  life, 
and  that  he  never  saw  such  fellows  before. 

Only  a  day  or  two  after  leaving  Bent's  Fort,  Henry 
Chatillon  rode  forward  to  hunt,  and  took  Ellis  along  with 
him.  After  they  had  been  some  time  absent  we  saw  them 
coming  down  the  hill,  driving  three  dragoon-horses,  which 
had  escaped  from  their  owners  on  the  march,  or  perhaps 
had  given  out  and  been  abandoned.  One  of  them  was  in 
tolerable  condition,  but  the  others  were  much  emaciated 
and  severely  bitten  by  the  wolves.  Reduced  as  they  were, 
we  carried  two  of  them  to  the  settlements,  and  Henry 
exchanged  the  third  with  the  Arapahoes  for  an  excellent 
mule. 

On  the  day  after,  when  we  had  stopped  to  rest  at  noon, 
a  long  train  of  Santa  F£  wagons  came  up  and  trailed 
slowly  past  us  in  their  picturesque  procession.  They  be- 
longed to  a  trader  named  Magoffin,  whose  brother,  with 
a  number  of  other  men,  came  and  sat  down  with  us  on 
the  grass.  The  news  they  brought  was  not  of  the 
most  pleasing  complexion.  According  to  their  accounts, 
the  trail  below  was  in  a  very  dangerous  state.  They  had 
repeatedly  detected  Indians  prowling  at  night  around  their 
camps ;  and  the  large  party  whieh  had  left  Bent's  Fort  a 
few  weeks  before  us  had  been  attacked,  and  a  man  named 
Swan,  from  Massachusetts,  had  been  killed.  His  com- 
panions had  buried  the  body ;  but  when  Magoffin  found 
his  grave,  which  was  near  a  place  called  "The  Caches," 
the  Indians  had  dug  up  and  scalped  him,  and  the  wolves 


318  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

had  shockingly  mangled  his  remains.  As  an  offset  to 
this  intelligence,  they  gave  us  the  welcome  information 
that  the  buffalo  were  numerous  at  a  few  days'  journey 
below. 

On  the  next  afternoon,  as  we  moved  along  the  bank  of 
the  river,  we  saw  the  white  tops  of  wagons  on  the  horizon. 
It  was  some  hours  before  we  met  them,  when  they  proved 
to  be  a  train  of  clumsy  ox -wagons,  quite  different  from 
the  rakish  vehicles  of  the  Santa  F£  traders,  and  loaded 
with  government  stores  for  the  troops.  They  all  stopped, 
and  the  drivers  gathered  around  us  in  a  crowd.  Many 
of  them  were  mere  boys,  fresh  from  the  plough.  In  re- 
spect to  the  state  of  the  trail,  they  confirmed  all  that  the 
Santa  Fd  men  had  told  us.  In  passing  between  the  Paw- 
nee Fork  and  the  Caches,  their  sentinels  had  fired  every 
night  at  real  or  imaginary  Indians.  They  said  also  that 
Ewing,  a  young  Kentuckian  in  the  party  that  had  gone 
down  before  us,  had  shot  an  Indian  who  was  prowling  at 
evening  about  the  camp.  Some  of  them  advised  us  to 
turn  back,  and  others  to  hasten  forward  as  fast  as  we 
could;  but  they  all  seemed  in  such  a  state  of  feverish 
anxiety,  and  so  little  capable  of  cool  judgment,  that  we 
attached  slight  weight  to  what  they  said.  They  next  gave 
us  a  more  definite  piece  of  intelligence :  a  large  village  of 
Arapahoes  was  encamped  on  the  river  below.  They  rep- 
resented them  to  be  friendly ;  but  some  distinction  was  to 
be  made  between  a  party  of  thirty  men,  travelling  with 
oxen,  which  are  of  no  value  in  an  Indian's  eyes,  and  a 
mere  handful  like  ourselves,  with  a  tempting  band  of 
mules  and  horses. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day,  looking  along 
the  horizon  before  us,  we  saw  that  at  one  point  it  was 
faintly  marked  with  pale  indentations,  like  the  teeth  of  a 
saw.  The  distant  lodges  of  the  Arapahoes.  rising  be- 


INDIAN   ALARMS.  319 

tween  us  and  the  sky,  caused  this  singular  appearance. 
It  wanted  still  two  or  three  hours  of  sunset  when  we  came 
opposite  their  camp.  There  were  full  two  hundred  lodges 
standing  in  the  midst  of  a  grassy  meadow  at  some  dis- 
tance beyond  the  river,  while  for  a  mile  around  on  both 
banks  of  the  Arkansas  were  scattered  some  fifteen  hun- 
dred horses  and  mules,  grazing  together  in  bands,  or 
wandering  singly  about  the  prairie.  The  whole  were  visi- 
ble at  once,  for  the  vast  expanse  was  unbroken  by  hills, 
and  there  was  not  a  tree  or  a  bush  to  intercept  the  view. 

Here  and  there  walked  an  Indian,  engaged  in  watching 
the  horses.  No  sooner  did  we  see  them  than  Te"te  Rouge 
begged  Deslauriers  to  stop  the  cart  and  hand  him  his 
military  jacket,  which  was  stowed  away  there.  In  this  he 
invested  himself,  having  for  once  laid  the  old  buffalo-coat 
aside,  assumed  a  martial  posture  in  the  saddle,  set  his 
cap  over  his  left  eye  with  an  air  of  defiance,  and  earnestly 
entreated  that  somebody  would  lend  him  a  gun  or  a 
pistol  only  for  half  an  hour.  Being  called  upon  to  explain 
these  proceedings,  Tete  Rouge  observed,  that  he  knew 
from  experience  what  effect  the  presence  of  a  military 
man  in  his  uniform  always  has  upon  the  mind  of  an 
Indian,  and  he  thought  the  Arapahoes  ought  to  know  that 
there  was  a  soldier  in  the  party. 

Meeting  Arapahoes  here  on  the  Arkansas  was  a  very 
different  thing  from  meeting  the  same  Indians  among 
their  native  mountains.  There  was  another  circumstance 
in  our  favor.  General  Kearney  had  seen  them  a  few 
weeks  before,  as  he  came  up  the  river  with  his  army,  and, 
renewing  his  threats  of  the  previous  year,  he  told  them 
that  if  they  ever  again  touched  the  hair  of  a  white  man's 
head  he  would  exterminate  their  nation.  This  placed 
them  for  the  time  in  an  admirable  frame  of  mind,  and 
the  effect  of  his  menaces  had  not  yet  disappeared.  I 


320  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

wished  to  see  the  village  and  its  inhabitants.  We  thought 
it  also  our  best  policy  to  visit  them  openly,  as  if  unsus- 
picious of  any  hostile  design;  and  Shaw  and  I,  with 
Henry  Chatillon,  prepared  to  cross  the  river.  The  rest 
of  the  party  meanwhile  moved  forward  as  fast  as  they 
could,  in  order  to  get  as  far  as  possible  from  our  sus- 
picious neighbors  before  night  came  on. 

The  Arkansas  at  this  point,  and  for  several  hundred 
miles  below,  is  nothing  but  a  broad  sand-bed,  over  which 
glide  a  few  scanty  threads  of  water,  now  and  then  expand- 
ing into  wide  shallows.  At  several  places,  during  the 
autumn,  the  water  sinks  into  the  sand  and  disappears 
altogether.  At  this  season,  were  it  not  for  the  numerous 
quicksands,  the  river  might  be  forded  almost  anywhere 
without  difficulty,  though  its  channel  is  often  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  wide.  Our  horses  jumped  down  the  bank,  and 
wading  through  the  water,  or  galloping  freely  over  the 
hard  sand-beds,  soon  reached  the  other  side.  Here,  as 
we  were  pushing  through  the  tall  grass,  we  saw  several 
Indians  not  far  off ;  one  of  them  waited  until  we  came  up, 
and  stood  for  some  moments  in  perfect  silence  before  us, 
looking  at  us  askance  with  his  little  snake-like  eyes. 
Henry  explained  by  signs  what  we  wanted,  and  the  Indian, 
gathering  his  buffalo-robe  about  his  shoulders,  led  the 
way  towards  the  village  without  speaking  a  word. 

The  language  of  the  Arapahoes  is  so  difficult,  and  its 
pronunciation  so  harsh  and  guttural,  that  no  white  man, 
it  is  said,  has  ever  been  able  to  master  it.  Even  Max- 
well, the  trader  who  has  been  most  among  them,  is  com- 
pelled to  resort  to  the  curious  sign-language  common  to 
most  of  the  prairie  tribes.  With  this  sign-language  Henry 
Chatillon  was  perfectly  acquainted. 

Approaching  the  village,  we  found  the  ground  strewn 
with  piles  of  waste  buffalo-meat  in  incredible  quantities. 


INDIAN  ALARMS.  321 

The  lodges  were  pitched  in  a  circle.  They  resembled 
those  of  the  Dahcotah  in  every  thing  but  cleanliness. 
Passing  between  two  of  them,  we  entered  the  great 
circular  area  of  the  camp,  and  instantly  hundreds  of 
Indians,  men,  women,  and  children,  came  flocking  out 
of  their  habitations  to  look  at  us ;  at  the  same  time,  the 
dogs  all  around  the  village  set  up  a  discordant  baying. 
Our  Indian  guide  walked  towards  the  lodge  of  the  chief. 
Here  we  dismounted;  and  loosening  the  trail-ropes  from 
our  horses'  necks,  held  them  fast  as  we  sat  down  before 
the  entrance,  with  our  rifles  laid  across  our  laps.  The 
chief  came  out  and  shook  us  by  the  hand.  He  was  a 
mean-looking  fellow,  very  tall,  thin-visaged,  and  sinewy, 
like  the  rest  of  the  nation,  and  with  scarcely  a  vestige  of 
clothing.  We  had  not  been  seated  a  moment  before  a 
multitude  of  Indians  came  crowding  around  us  from  every 
part  of  the  village,  and  we  were  shut  in  by  a  dense  wall  of 
savage  faces.  Some  of  our  visitors  crouched  around  us 
on  the  ground;  others  sat  behind  them;  others,  stoop- 
ing, looked  over  their  heads;  while  many  more  stood 
behind,  peering  over  each  other's  shoulders,  to  get  a 
view  of  us.  I  looked  in  vain  among  this  throng  of  faces 
to  discover  one  manly  or  generous  expression ;  all  were 
wolfish,  sinister,  and  malignant,  and  their  complexions, 
as  well  as  their  features,  unlike  those  of  the  Dahcotah, 
were  exceedingly  bad.  The  chief,  who  sat  close  to  the 
entrance,  called  to  a  squaw  within  the  lodge,  who  soon 
came  out  and  placed  a  wooden  bowl  of  meat  before  us. 
To  our  surprise,  however,  no  pipe  was  offered.  Having 
tasted  of  the  meat  as  a  matter  of  form,  I  began  to  open 
a  bundle  of  presents,  — tobacco,  knives,  vermilion,  and 
other  articles  which  I  had  brought  with  me.  At  this 
there  was  a  grin  on  every  countenance  in  the  rapacious 
crowd;  their  eyes  began  to  glitter,  and  long  thin  arms 

81 


322  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

were  eagerly  stretched  towards  us  on  all  sides  to  receive 
the  gifts. 

The  Arapahoes  set  great  value  upon  their  shields, 
which  they  transmit  carefully  from  father  to  son.  7, 
wished  to  get  one  of  them ;  and  displaying  a  large  pieco 
of  scarlet  cloth,  together  with  some  tobacco  and  a  knife., 
I  offered  them  to  any  one  who  would  bring  rne  what  li 
wanted.  After  some  delay  a  tolerable  shield  was  pro- 
duced. They  were  very  anxious  to  know  what  we  meant 
to  do  with  it,  and  Henry  told  them  that  we  were  going  to 
fight  their  enemies  the  Pawnees.  This  instantly  pro- 
duced a  visible  impression  in  our  favor,  which  was  in- 
creased by  the  distribution  of  the  presents.  Among 
these  was  a  large  paper  of  awls,  a  gift  appropriate  to  the 
women;  and  as  we  were  anxious  to  see  the  beauties  of 
the  Arapahoe  village,  Henry  requested  that  they  might 
be  called  to  receive  them.  A  warrior  gave  a  shout,  as  if 
he  were  calling  a  pack  of  dogs  together.  The  squaws, 
young  and  old,  hags  of  eighty  and  girls  of  sixteen,  came 
running  with  screams  and  laughter  out  of  the  lodges; 
and  as  the  men  gave  way  for  them,  they  gathered  round 
us  and  stretched  out  their  arms,  grinning  with  delight, 
their  native  ugliness  considerably  enhanced  by  the  ex- 
citement of  the  moment. 

Mounting  our  horses,  which  during  the  whole  inter- 
view we  had  held  close  to  us,  we  prepared  to  leave  the 
Arapahoes.  The  crowd  fell  back  on  each  side,  and  stood 
looking  on.  "When  we  were  half  across  the  camp  an 
idea  occurred  to  us.  The  Pawnees  were  probably  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Caches ;  we  might  tell  the  Arapa- 
hoes of  this,  and  instigate  them  to  send  down  a  war-party 
and  cut  them  off,  while  we  ourselves  could  remain  behind 
for  a  while  and  hunt  the  buffalo.  At  first  thought,  this 
plan  of  setting  our  enemies  to  destroy  one  another  seemed 


INDIAN   ALARMS.  323 

to  us  a  master-piece  of  policy ;  but  we  immediately  recol- 
lected that  should  we  meet  the  Arapahoa  warriors  on  the 
river  below,  they  might  prove  quite  as.  dangerous  as  the 
Pawnees  themselves.  So  rejecting  our  plan  as  soon  as 
it  presented  itself,  we  passed  out  of  the  village  on  the 
farther  side.  We  urged  our  horses  rapidly  through  the 
tall  grass,  which  rose  to  their  necks.  Several  Indians 
were  walking  through  it  at  a  distance,  their  heads  just 
visible  above  its  waving  surface.  It  bore  a  kind  of  seed, 
as  sweet  and  nutritious  as  oats;  and  our  hungry  horses, 
in  spite  of  whip  and  rein,  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
of  snatching  at  this  unwonted  luxury  as  we  passed  along. 
When  about  a  mile  from  the  village,  I  turned  and  looked 
back  over  the  undulating  ocean  of  grass.  The  sun  was 
just  set ;  the  western  sky  was  all  in  a  glow,  and  sharply 
denned  against  it,  on  the  extreme  verge  of  the  plain, 
stood  the  clustered  lodges  of  the  Arapahoe  camp. 

Reaching  the  bank  of  the  river,  we  followed  it  for 
some  distance  farther,  until  we  discerned  through  the 
twilight  the  white  covering  of  our  little  cart  on  the  oppo- 
site bank.  When  we  reached  it  we  found  a  considerable 
number  of  Indians  there  before  us.  Four  or  five  of  them 
were  seated  in  a  row  upon  the  ground,  looking  like  so 
many  half -starved  vultures.  Tete  Rouge,  in  his  uniform, 
was  holding  a  close  colloquy  with  another  by  the  side  of 
the  cart.  Finding  his  signs  and  gesticulation  of  no  avail, 
he  tried  to  make  the  Indian  understand  him  by  repeating 
English  words  very  loudly  and  distinctly  again  and  again. 
The  Indian  sat  with  his  eye  fixed  steadily  upon  him,  and 
in  spite  of  the  rigid  immobility  of  his  features,  it  was 
clear  at  a  glance  that  he  perfectly  understood  and  despised 
his  military  companion.  The  exhibition  was  more  amus- 
ing than  politic,  and  Tete  Rouge  was  directed  to  finish 


324  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

what  he  had  to  say  as  soon  as  possible.  Thus  rebuked, 
he  crept  under  the  cart  and  sat  down  there;  Henry 
Chatillon  stooped  to  look  at  him  in  his  retirement,  and 
remarked  in  his  quiet  manner  that  an  Indian  would  kill 
ten  such  men  and  laugh  all  the  time. 

One  by  one  our  visitors  arose  and  stalked  away.  As 
the  darkness  thickened  we  were  saluted  by  dismal  sounds. 
The  wolves  are  incredibly  numerous  in  this  part  of  the 
country,  and  the  offal  around  the  Arapahoe  camp  had 
drawn  such  multitudes  of  them  together  that  several 
hundreds  were  howling  in  concert  in  our  immediate 
neighborhood.  There  was  an  island  in  the  river,  or 
rather  an  oasis  in  the  midst  of  the  sands,  at  about  the 
distance  of  a  gun-shot,  and  here  they  seemed  to  be 
gathered  in  the  greatest  numbers.  A  horrible  discord  of 
low  mournful  wailings,  mingled  with  ferocious  howls, 
arose  from  it  incessantly  for  several  hours  after  sunset. 
We  could  distinctly  see  the  wolves  running  about  the 
prairie  within  a  few  rods  of  our  fire,  or  bounding  over  the 
sand-beds  of  the  river  and  splashing  through  the  water. 
There  was  not  the  slightest  danger  from  them,  for  they 
are  the  greatest  cowards  on  the  prairie. 

In  respect  to  the  human  wolves  in  our  neighborhood, 
we  felt  much  less  at  our  ease.  That  night  each  man 
spread  his  buffalo-robe  upon  the  ground  with  his  loaded 
rifle  laid  at  his  side  or  clasped  in  his  arms.  Our  horses 
were  picketed  so  close  around  us  that  one  of  them  re- 
peatedly stepped  over  me  as  I  lay.  We  were  not  in  the 
habit  of  placing  a  guard,  but  every  man  was  anxious  and 
watchful:  there  was  little  sound  sleeping  in  camp,  and 
some  one  of  the  party  was  on  his  feet  during  the  greater 
part  of  the  night.  For  myself,  I  lay  alternately  waking 
and  dozing  until  midnight.  Tete  Rouge  was  reposing 


INDIAN   ALARMS.  325 

close  fco  the  river  bank,  and  about  this  time,  when  half 
asleep  and  half  awake,  I  was  conscious  that  he  shifted 
his  position  and  crept  on  all -fours  under  the  cart.  Soon 
after  I  fell  into  a  sound  sleep,  from  which  I  was  roused 
by  a  hand  shaking  me  by  the  shoulder.  Looking  up,  I 
saw  Tete  Rouge  stooping  over  me  with  a  pale  face  and 
dilated  eyes. 

"What's  the  matter?"  said  I. 

Tete  Rouge  declared  that  as  he  lay  on  the  river  bank, 
something  caught  his  eye  which  excited  his  suspicions. 
So  creeping  under  the  cart  for  safety's  sake,  he  sat  there 
and  watched,  when  he  saw  two  Indians,  wrapped  in  white 
robes,  creep  up  the  bank,  seize  upon  two  horses  and  lead 
them  off.  He  looked  so  frightened  and  told  his  story  in 
such  a  disconnected  manner  that  I  did  not  believe  him, 
and  was  unwilling  to  alarm  the  party.  Still  it  might  be 
true,  and  in  that  case  the  matter  required  instant  atten- 
tion. So  directing  Tete  Rouge  to  show  me  which  way 
the  Indians  had  gone,  I  took  my  rifle,  in  obedience  to  a 
thoughtless  impulse,  and  left  the  camp.  I  followed  the 
river  bank  for  two  or  three  hundred  yards,  listening  and 
looking  anxiously  on  every  side.  In  the  dark  prairie  on 
the  right  I  could  discern  nothing  to  excite  alarm ;  and  in 
the  dusky  bed  of  the  river,  a  wolf  was  bounding  along 
in  a  manner  which  no  Indian  could  imitate.  I  returned 
to  the  camp,  and  when  within  sight  of  it,  saw  that  the 
whole  party  was  aroused.  Shaw  called  out  to  me  that  he 
had  counted  the  horses,  and  that  every  one  of  them 
was  in  his  place.  Tete  Rouge  being  examined  as  to 
what  he  had  seen,  only  repeated  his  former  story  with 
many  asseverations,  and  insisted  that  two  horses  were 
certainly  carried  off.  At  this  Jim  Gurney  declared  that 
he  was  crazy;  Tete  Rouge  indignantly  denied  the 


326  THE    OREGON    TKAIL. 

charge,  on  which  Jim  appealed  to  us.  As  we  declined  to 
give  our  judgment  on  so  delicate  a  matter,  the  dispute 
grew  hot  between  Tete  Rouge  and  his  accuser,  until  he 
was  directed  to  go  to  bed  and  not  alarm  the  camp  again 
if  he  saw  the  whole  Arapahoe  village  coming. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  CHASE. 

THE  country  before  us  was  now  thronged  with  buffalo, 
and  a  sketch  of  the  manner  of  hunting  them  will 
not  be  out  of  place.  There  are  two  methods  commonly 
practised,  "running"  and  "approaching."  The  chase 
on  horseback,  which  goes  by  the  name  of  "running,"  is 
the  more  violent  and  dashing  mode  of  the  two,  that  is  to 
say,  when  the  buffalo  are  in  one  of  their  wild  moods;  for 
otherwise  it  is  tame  enough.  A  practised  and  skilful 
hunter,  well  mounted,  will  sometimes  kill  five  or  six  cows 
in  a  single  chase,  loading  his  gun  again  and  again  as  his 
horse  rushes  through  the  tumult.  In  attacking  a  small 
band  of  buffalo,  or  in  separating  a  single  animal  from  the 
herd  and  assailing  it  apart  from  the  rest,  there  is  less 
excitement  and  less  danger.  In  fact,  the  animals  are  at 
times  so  stupid  and  lethargic  that  there  is  little  sport  in 
killing  them.  With  a  bold  and  well-trained  horse  the 
hunter  may  ride  so  close  to  the  buffalo  that  as  they  gallop 
side  by  side  he  may  touch  him  with  his  hand ;  nor  is  there 
much  danger  in  this  as  long  as  the  buffalo's  strength  and 
breath  continue  unabated;  but  when  he  becomes  tired 
and  can  no  longer  run  with  ease,  when  his  tongue  lolls 
out  and  the  foam  flies  from  his  jaws,  then  the  hunter  had 
better  keep  a  more  respectful  distance;  the  distressed 
brute  may  turn  upon  him  at  any  instant;  and  especially 
at  the  moment  when  he  fires  his  gun.  The  horse  then 


328  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

leaps  aside,  and  the  hunter  has  need  of  a  tenacious  seat 
in  the  saddle,  for  if  he  is  thrown  to  the  ground  there  is 
no  hope  for  him.  When  he  sees  his  attack  defeated  the 
buffalo  resumes  his  flight,  but  if  the  shot  is  well  directed 
he  soon  stops ;  for  a  few  moments  he  stands  still,  then 
totters  and  falls  heavily  upon  the  prairie. 

The  chief  difficulty  in  running  buffalo,  as  it  seems  to 
me,  is  that  of  loading  the  gun  or  pistol  at  full  gallop. 
Many  hunters  for  convenience'  sake  carry  three  or  four 
bullets  in  the  mouth ;  the  powder  is  poured  down  the 
muzzle  of  the  piece,  the  bullet  dropped  in  after  it,  the 
stock  struck  hard  upon  the  pommel  of  the  saddle,  and 
the  work  is  done.  The  danger  of  this  is  obvious.  Should 
the  blow  on  the  pommel  fail  to  send  the  bullet  home,  or 
should  the  bullet  in  the  act  of  aiming,  start  from  its  place 
and  roll  towards  the  muzzle,  the  gun  would  probably  burst 
in  discharging.  Many  a  shattered  hand  and  worse  casual- 
ties beside  have  been  the  result  of  such  an  accident.  To 
obviate  it,  some  hunters  make  use  of  a  ramrod,  usually 
hung  by  a  string  from  the  neck,  but  this  materially 
increases  the  difficulty  of  loading.  The  bows  and  ar- 
rows which  the  Indians  use  in  running  buffalo  have  many 
advantages  over  firearms,  and  even  white  men  occasionally 
employ  them. 

The  danger  of  the  chase  arises  not  so  much  from  the 
onset  of  the  wounded  animal  as  from  the  nature  of  the 
ground  which  the  hunter  must  ride  over.  The  prairie 
does  not  always  present  a  smooth,  level,  and  uniform  sur- 
face ;  very  often  it  is  broken  with  hills  and  hollows,  inter- 
sected by  ravines,  and  in  the  remoter  parts  studded  by 
the  stiff  wild-sage  bushes.  The  most  formidable  obstruc- 
tions, however,  are  the  burrows  of  wild  animals,  wolves, 
badgers,  and  particularly  prairie-dogs,  with  whose  holes 
the  ground  for  a  very  great  extent  is  frequently  honey- 


THE    CHASE.  329 

combed.  In  the  blindness  of  the  chase  the  hunter  rushes 
over  it  unconscious  of  danger ;  his  horse,  at  full  career, 
thrusts  his  leg  deep  into  one  of  the  burrows ;  the  bone 
snaps,  the  rider  is  hurled  forward  to  the  ground  and  prob- 
ably killed.  Yet  accidents  in  buffalo  running  happen 
less  frequently  than  one  would  suppose ;  in  the  reckless- 
ness of  the  chase,  the  hunter  enjoys  all  the  impunity  of  a 
drunken  man,  and  may  ride  in  safety  over  gullies  and 
declivities,  where,  should  he  attempt  to  pass  in  his  sober 
senses,  he  would  infallibly  break  his  neck. 

The  method  of  "  approaching, "  being  practised  on  foot, 
has  many  advantages  over  that  of  "running;"  in  the 
former,  one  neither  breaks  down  his  horse  nor  endangers 
his  own  life;  he  must  be  cool,  collected,  and  watchful; 
must  understand  the  buffalo,  observe  the  features  of  the 
country  and  the  course  of  the  wind,  and  be  well  skilled 
in  using  the  rifle.  The  buffalo  are  strange  animals; 
sometimes  they  are  so  stupid  and  infatuated  that  a  man 
may  walk  up  to  them  in  full  sight  on  the  open  prairie, 
and  even  shoot  several  of  their  number  before  the  rest 
will  think  it  necessary  to  retreat.  At  another  moment 
they  will  be  so  shy  and  wary,  that  in  order  to  approach 
them  the  utmost  skill,  experience,  and  judgment  are  neces- 
sary. Kit  Carson,  I  believe,  stands  pre-eminent  in  run- 
ning buffalo;  in  approaching,  no  man  living  can  beai 
away  the  palm  from  Henry  Chatillon. 

After  Tete  Rouge  had  alarmed  the  camp,  no  farther 
disturbance  occurred  during  the  night.  The  Arapahoes 
did  not  attempt  mischief,  or  if  they  did  the  wakefulness 
of  the  party  deterred  them  from  effecting  their  purpose. 
The  next  day  was  one  of  activity  and  excitement,  for 
about  ten  o'clock  the  man  in  advance  shouted  the  glad- 
dening cry  of  buffalo,  "buffalo  !  and  in  the  hollow  of  the 
prairie  just  below  us,  a  band  of  bulls  were  grazing.  The 


330  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

temptation  was  irresistible,  and  Shaw  and  I  rode  down 
upon  them.  We  were  badly  mounted  on  our  travelling 
horses,  but  by  hard  lashing  we  overtook  them,  and  Shaw 
running  alongside  a  bull,  shot  into  him  both  balls  of 
his  double-barrelled  gun.  Looking  round  as  I  galloped 
by,  I  saw  the  bull  in  his  mortal  fury  rushing  again 
and  again  upon  his  antagonist,  whose  horse  constantly 
leaped  aside,  and  avoided  the  onset.  My  chase  was 
more  protracted,  but  at  length  I  ran  close  to  the  bull  and 
killed  him  with  my  pistols.  Cutting  off  the  tails  of 
our  victims  by  way  of  trophy,  we  rejoined  the  party  in 
about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  we  had  left  it.  Again 
and  again  that  morning  rang  out  the  same  welcome  cry 
of  buffalo,  buffalo  !  Every  few  moments,  in  the  broad 
meadows  along  the  Driver,  we  saw  bands  of  bulls,  who, 
raising  their  shaggy  heads,  would  gaze  in  stupid  amaze- 
ment at  the  approaching  horsemen,  and  then  breaking 
into  a  clumsy  gallop,  file  off  in  a  long  line  across  the 
trail  in  front,  towards  the  rising  prairie  on  the  left.  At 
noon,  the  plain  before  us  was  alive  with  thousands  of 
buffalo — bulls,  cows,  and  calves  —  all  moving  rapidly  as 
we  drew  near ;  and  far  off  beyond  the  river  the  swelling 
prairie  was  darkened  with  them  to  the  very  horizon.  The 
party  was  in  gayer  spirits  than  ever.  We  stopped  for  a 
nooning  near  a  grove  of  trees  by  the  river. 

"  Tongues  and  hump-ribs  to-morrow,"  said  Shaw,  look- 
ing with  contempt  at  the  venison  steaks  which  Deslauriers 
placed  before  us.  Our  meal  finished,  we  lay  down  to 
sleep.  A  shout  from  Henry  Chatillon  aroused  us,  and 
we  saw  him  standing  on  the  cart-wheel,  stretching  his 
tall  figure  to  its  full  height  while  he  looked  towards  the 
prairie  beyond  the  river.  Following  the  direction  of  his 
eyes,  we  could  clearly  distinguish  a  large  dark  object, 
like  the  black  shadow  of  a  cloud,  passing  rapidly  ovel 


THE    CHASE.  331 

swell  after  swell  of  the  distant  plain ;  behind  it  followed 
another  of  similar  appearance  though  smaller,  moving 
more  rapidly,  and  drawing  closer  and  closer  to  the  first. 
It  was  the  hunters  of  the  Arapahoe  camp  chasing  a  band 
of  buffalo.  Shaw  and  I  caught  and  saddled  our  best 
horses,  and  went  plunging  through  sand  and  water  to 
the  farther  bank.  We  were  too  late.  The  hunters  had 
already  mingled  with  the  herd,  and  the  work  of  slaughter 
was  nearly  over.  When  we  reached  the  ground  we  found 
it  strewn  far  and  near  with  numberless  carcasses,  while 
the  remnants  of  the  herd,  scattered  in  all  directions,  were 
flying  away  in  terror,  and  the  Indians  still  rushing  in 
pursuit.  Many  of  the  hunters  however  remained  upon 
the  spot,  and  among  the  rest  was  our  yesterday's  ac- 
quaintance, the  chief  of  the  village.  He  had  alighted  by 
the  side  of  a  cow,  into  which  he  had  shot  five  or  six 
arrows,  and  his  squaw,  who  had  followed  him  on  horse- 
back to  the  hunt,  was  giving  him  a  draught  of  water  from 
a  canteen,  purchased  or  plundered  from  some  volunteer 
soldier.  Recrossing  the  river,  we  overtook  the  party 
who  were  already  on  their  way. 

We  had  gone  scarcely  a  mile  when  we  saw  an  imposing 
spectacle.  From  the  river  bank  on  the  right,  away  over 
the  swelling  prairie  on  the  left,  and  in  front  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach,  was  one  vast  host  of  buffalo.  The  out- 
skirts of  the  herd  were  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  In 
many  parts  they  were  crowded  so  densely  together  that 
in  the  distance  their  rounded  backs  presented  a  surface 
of  uniform  blackness;  but  elsewhere  they  were  more 
scattered,  and  from  amid  the  multitude  rose  little  columns 
of  dust  where  some  of  them  were  rolling  on  the  ground. 
Here  and  there  a  battle  was  going  forward  among  the 
bulls.  We  could  distinctly  see  them  rushing  against  each 
other,  and  hear  the  clattering  of  their  horns  and  theil 


332  THE   OREGON   TRAIL. 

hoarse  bellowing.  Shaw  was  riding  at  some  distance  in 
advance,  with  Henry  Chatillon:  I  saw  him  stop  and 
draw  the  leather  covering  from  his  gun.  With  such  a 
sight  before  us,  but  one  thing  could  be  thought  of.  That 
morning  I  had  used  pistols  in  the  chase.  I  had  now  a 
mind  to  try  the  virtue  of  a  gun.  Deslauriers  had  one, 
and  I  rode  up  to  the  side  of  the  cart ;  there  he  sat  under 
the  white  covering,  biting  his  pipe  between  his  teeth  and 
grinning  with  excitement. 

"Lend  me  your  gun,  Deslauriers." 

"Oui,  Monsieur,  oui,"  said  Deslauriers,  tugging  with 
might  and  main  to  stop  the  mule,  which  seemed  obsti- 
nately bent  on  going  forward.  Then  every  thing  but  his 
moccasins  disappeared  as  he  crawled  into  the  cart  and 
pulled  at  the  gun  to  extricate  it. 

"Is  it  loaded?"  I  asked. 

"Oui,  bien  charge*;  you'll  kill,  mon  bourgeois;  yes, 
you'll  kill  —  c'est  un  bon  fusil." 

I  handed  him  my  rifle  and  rode  forward  to  Shaw. 

"  Are  you  ready  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Come  on,"  said  I. 

"Keep  down  that  hollow,"  said  Henry,  "and  then 
they  won't  see  you  till  you  get  close  to  them." 

The  hollow  was  a  kind  of  wide  ravine ;  it  ran  obliquely 
towards  the  buffalo,  and  we  rode  at  a  canter  along  the 
bottom  until  it  became  too  shallow ;  then  we  bent  close 
to  our  horses'  necks,  and,  at  last,  finding  that  it  could 
no  longer  conceal  us,  came  out  of  it  and  rode  directly 
towards  the  herd.  It  was  within  gunshot ;  before  its  out- 
skirts, numerous  grizzly  old  bulls  were  scattered,  holding 
guard  over  their  females.  They  glared  at  us  in  anger 
and  astonishment,  walked  towards  us  a  few  yards,  and 
then  turning  slowly  round  retreated  at  a  trot  which  after- 
wards broke  into  a  clumsy  gallop.  In  an  instant  the 


THE    CHASE.  333 

main  body  caught  the  alarm .  Th  e  buffalo  began  to  crowd 
away  from  the  point  towards  which  we  were  approaching, 
and  a  gap  was  opened  in  the  side  of  the  herd.  We 
entered  it,  still  restraining  our  excited  horses.  Every 
instant  the  tumult  was  thickening.  The  buffalo,  pressing 
together  in  large  bodies,  crowded  away  from  us  on  every 
hand.  In  front  and  on  either  side  we  could  see  dark 
columns  and  masses,  half  hidden  by  cJouds  of  dust,  rush- 
ing along  in  terror  and  confusion,  and  hear  the  tramp 
and  clattering  of  ten  thousand  hoofs.  That  countless 
multitude  of  powerful  brutes,  ignorant  of  their  own 
strength,  were  flying  in  a  panic  from  the  approach  of  two 
feeble  horsemen.  To  remain  quiet  longer  was  impossible. 

"Take  that  band  on  the  left, "  said  Shaw;  "I'll  take 
these  in  front." 

He  sprang  off,  and  I  saw  no  more  of  him.  A  heavy 
Indian  whip  was  fastened  by  a  band  to  my  wrist ;  I  swung 
it  into  the  air  and  lashed  my  horse's  flank  with  all  the 
strength  of  my  arm.  Away  she  darted,  stretching  close 
to  the  ground.  I  could  see  nothing  but  a  cloud  of  dust 
before  me,  but  I  knew  that  it  concealed  a  band  of  many 
hundreds  of  buffalo.  In  a  moment  I  was  in  the  midst 
of  the  cloud,  half  suffocated  by  the  dust  and  stunned  by 
the  trampling  of  the  flying  herd ;  but  I  was  drunk  with 
the  chase  and  cared  for  nothing  but  the  buffalo.  Very 
soon  a  long  dark  mass  became  visible,  looming  through 
the  dust ;  then  I  could  distinguish  each  bulky  carcass, 
the  hoofs  flying  out  beneath,  the  short  tails  held  rigidly 
erect.  In  a  moment  I  was  so  close  that  I  could  have 
touched  them  with  my  gun.  Suddenly,  to  my  amaze- 
ment, the  hoofs  were  jerked  upwards,  the  tails  flourished 
in  the  air,  and  amid  a  cloud  of  dust  the  buffalo  seemed 
to  sink  into  the  earth  before  me.  One  vivid  impression 
of  that  instant  remains  upon  my  mind.  I  remember 


334  THE    OKEGON   TEAIL. 

looking  down  upon  the  backs  of  several  buffalo  dimly 
visible  through  the  dust.  We  had  run  unawares  upon 
a  ravine.  At  that  moment  I  was  not  the  most  accurate 
judge  of  depth  and  width,  but  when  I  passed  it  on  my 
return,  I  found  it  about  twelve  feet  deep  and  not  quite 
twice  as  wide  at  the  bottom.  It  was  impossible  to  stop; 
I  would  have  done  so  gladly  if  I  could ;  so,  half  sliding, 
half  plunging,  down  went  the  little  mare.  She  came 
down  on  her  knees  in  the  loose  sand  at  the  bottom ;  I 
was  pitched  forward  against  her  neck  and  nearly  thrown 
over  her  head  among  the  buffalo,  who  amid  dust  and  con- 
fusion came  tumbling  in  all  around.  The  mare  was  on 
her  feet  in  an  instant  and  scrambling  like  a  cat  up  the 
opposite  side.  I  thought  for  a  moment  that  she  would 
have  fallen  back  and  crushed  me,  but  with  a  violent  effort 
she  clambered  out  and  gained  the  hard  prairie  above. 
Glancing  back  I  saw  the  huge  head  of  a  bull  clinging  as 
it  were  by  the  forefeet  at  the  edge  of  the  dusty  gulf.  At 
length  I  was  fairly  among  the  buffalo.  They  were  less 
densely  crowded  than  before,  and  I  could  see  nothing  but 
bulls,  who  always  run  at  the  rear  of  a  herd  to  protect 
their  females.  As  I  passed  among  them  they  would 
lower  their  heads,  and  turning  as  they  ran,  try  to  gore 
my  horse ;  but  as  they  were  already  at  full  speed  there 
was  no  force  in  their  onset,  and  as  Pauline  ran  faster 
than  they,  they  were  always  thrown  behind  her  in  the 
effort.  I  soon  began  to  distinguish  cows  amid  the  throng. 
One  just  in  front  of  me  seemed  to  my  liking,  and  I  pushed 
close  to  her  side.  Dropping  the  reins  I  fired,  holding 
the  muzzle  of  the  gun  within  a  foot  of  her  shoulder. 
Quick  as  lightning  she  sprang  at  Pauline ;  the  little  mare 
dodged  the  attack,  and  I  lost  sight  of  the  wounded  animal 
amid  the  tumult.  Immediately  after,  I  selected  another, 
and  urging  forward  Pauline,  shot  into  her  both  pistols 


THE   CHASE.  335 

in  succession.  For  a  while  I  kept  her  in  view,  but  in 
attempting  to  load  my  gun,  lost  sight  of  her  also  in  the 
confusion.  Believing  her  to  be  mortally  wounded  and 
unable  to  keep  up  with  the  herd,  I  checked  my  horse. 
The  crowd  rushed  onwards.  The  dust  and  tumult  passed 
away,  and  on  the  prairie,  far  behind  the  rest,  I  saw  a 
solitary  buffalo  galloping  heavily.  In  a  moment  I  and 
my  victim  were  running  side  by  side.  My  firearms  were 
all  empty,  and  I  had  in  my  pouch  nothing  but  rifle 
bullets,  too  large  for  the  pistols  and  too  small  for  the 
gun.  I  loaded  the  gun,  however,  but  as  often  as  I 
levelled  it  to  fire,  the  bullets  would  roll  out  of  the  muzzle 
and  the  gun  returned  only  a  report  like  a  squib,  as  the 
powder  harmlessly  exploded.  I  rode  in  front  of  the 
buffalo  and  tried  to  turn  her  back ;  but  her  eyes  glared, 
her  mane  bristled,  and,  lowering  her  head,  she  rushed  at 
me  with  the  utmost  fierceness  and  activity.  Again  and 
again  I  rode  before  her,  and  again  and  again  she  repeated 
her  furious  charge.  But  little  Pauline  was  in  her 
element.  She  dodged  her  enemy  at  every  rush,  until  at 
length  the  buffalo  stood  still,  exhausted  with  her  own 
efforts,  her  tongue  lolling  from  her  jaws. 

Riding  to  a  little  distance,  I  dismounted,  thinking  to 
gather  a  handful  of  dry  grass  to  serve  the  purpose  of 
wadding,  and  load  the  gun  at  my  leisure.  No  sooner 
were  my  feet  on  the  ground  than  the  buffalo  came  bound- 
ing in  such  a  rage  towards  me  that  I  jumped  back  again 
into  the  saddle  with  all  possible  despatch.  After  waiting 
a  few  minutes  more,  I  made  an  attempt  to  ride  up  and 
stab  her  with  my  knife ;  but  Pauline  was  near  being  gored 
in  the  attempt.  At  length,  bethinking  me  of  the  fringes 
at  the  seams  of  my  buckskin  trousers,  I  jerked  off  a  few  of 
them,  and,  reloading  the  gun,  forced  them  down  the  barrel 
to  keep  the  bullet  in  its  place ;  then  approaching,  I  shot  the 


336  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

wounded  buffalo  through  the  heart.  Sinking  to  her  knees, 
she  rolled  over  lifeless  on  the  prairie.  To  my  astonish- 
ment, I  found  that,  instead  of  a  cow,  I  had  been  slaughter- 
ing a  stout  yearling  bull.  No  longer  wondering  at  his 
fierceness,  I  opened  his  throat,  and  cutting  out  his  tongue, 
tied  it  at  the  back  of  my  saddle.  My  mistake  was  one 
which  a  more  experienced  eye  than  mine  might  easily 
make  in  the  dust  and  confusion  of  such  a  chase. 

Then  for  the  first  time  I  had  leisure  to  look  at  the 
scene  around  me.  The  prairie  in  front  was  darkened 
with  the  retreating  multitude,  and  on  either  hand  the 
buffalo  came  filing  up  in  endless  columns  from  the  low 
plains  upon  the  river.  The  Arkansas  was  three  or  four 
miles  distant.  I  turned  and  moved  slowly  towards  it. 
A  long  time  passed  before,  far  in  the  distance,  I  distin- 
guished the  white  covering  of  the  cart  and  the  little  black 
specks  of  horsemen  before  and  behind  it.  Drawing  near, 
I  recognized  Shaw's  elegant  tunic,  the  red  flannel  shirt, 
conspicuous  far  off.  I  overtook  the  party,  and  asked  him 
what  success  he  had  had.  He  had  assailed  a  fat  cow, 
shot  her  with  two  bullets,  and  mortally  wounded  her. 
But  neither  of  us  was  prepared  for  the  chase  that  after- 
noon, and  Shaw,  like  myself,  had  no  spare  bullets  in  his 
pouch;  so  he  abandoned  the  disabled  animal  to  Henry 
Chatillon,  who  followed,  despatched  her  with  his  rifle,  and 
loaded  his  horse  with  the  meat. 

We  encamped  close  to  the  river.  The  night  was  dark, 
and  as  we  lay  down  we  could  hear,  mingled  with  the 
howlings  of  wolves,  the  hoarse  bellowing  of  the  buffalo, 
like  the  ocean  beating  upon  a  distant  coast. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  BUFFALO   CAMP. 

NO  one  in  the  camp  was  more  active  than  Jim  Gur> 
ney,  and  no  one  half  so  lazy  as  Ellis.  Between 
these  two  there  was  a  great  antipathy.  Ellis  never  stirred 
in  the  morning  until  he  was  compelled,  but  Jim  was  al- 
ways on  his  feet  before  daybreak ;  and  this  morning  as 
usual  the  sound  of  his  voice  awakened  the  party. 

"Get  up,  you  booby!  up  with  you  now,  you're  fit  for 
nothing  but  eating  and  sleeping.  Stop  your  grumbling 
and  come  out  of  that  buffalo -robe,  or  I'll  pull  it  off  for 
you." 

Jim's  words  were  interspersed  with  numerous  expletives, 
which  gave  them  great  additional  effect.  Ellis  drawled 
out  something  in  a  nasal  tone  from  among  the  folds  of 
his  buffalo-robe ;  then  slowly  disengaged  himself,  rose  into 
a  sitting  posture,  stretched  his  long  arms,  yawned  hid- 
eously, and,  finally  raising  his  tall  person  erect,  stood 
staring  about  him  to  all  the  four  quarters  of  the  horizon. 
Deslauriers's  fire  was  soon  blazing,  and  the  horses  and 
mules,  loosened  from  their  pickets,  were  feeding  on  the 
neighboring  meadow.  When  we  sat  down  to  breakfast 
the  prairie  was  still  in  the  dusky  light  of  morning ;  and  as 
the  sun  rose  we  were  mounted  and  on  our  way  again. 

"A  white  buffalo!  "  exclaimed  Munroe. 

"I'll  have  that  fellow,"  said  Shaw,  "if  I  run  my  horse 
to  death  after  him." 

22 


338  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

He  threw  the  cover  of  his  gun  to  Deslauriers  and  gal- 
loped out  upon  the  prairie. 

"Stop,  Mr.  Shaw,  stop!  "  called  out  Henry  Chatillon, 
"you'll  run  down  your  horse  for  nothing;  it's  only  a 
white  ox." 

But  Shaw  was  already  out  of  hearing.  The  ox,  which 
had  no  doubt  strayed  away  from  some  of  the  government 
wagon  trains,  was  standing  beneath  some  low  hills  which 
bounded  the  plain  in  the  distance.  Not  far  from  him  a 
band  of  veritable  buffalo  bulls  were  grazing ;  and  startled 
at  Shaw's  approach,  they  all  broke  into  a  run,  and  went 
scrambling  up  the  hill-sides  to  gain  the  high  prairie  above. 
One  of  them  in  his  haste  and  terror  involved  himself  in 
a  fatal  catastrophe.  Along  the  foot  of  the  hills  was  a 
narrow  strip  of  deep  marshy  soil,  into  which  the  bull 
plunged  and  hopelessly  entangled  himself.  We  all  rode 
to  the  spot.  The  huge  carcass  was  half  sunk  in  the  mud, 
which  flowed  to  his  very  chin,  and  his  shaggy  mane  was 
outspread  upon  the  surface.  As  we  came  near,  the  bull 
began  to  struggle  with  convulsive  strength ;  he  writhed 
to  and  fro,  and  in  the  energy  of  his  fright  and  desperation 
would  lift  himself  for  a  moment  half  out  of  the  slough, 
while  the  reluctant  mire  returned  a  sucking  sound  as  he 
strained  to  drag  his  limbs  from  its  tenacious  depths.  We 
stimulated  his  exertions  by  getting  behind  him  and  twist- 
ing his  tail ;  nothing  would  do.  There  was  clearly  no 
hope  for  him.  After  every  effort  his  heaving  sides  were 
more  deeply  imbedded,  and  the  mire  almost  overflowed  his 
nostrils ;  he  lay  still  at  length,  and  looking  round  at  us 
with  a  furious  eye,  seemed  to  resign  himself  to  his  fate. 
Ellis  slowly  dismounted,  and,  levelling  his  boasted  yager, 
shot  the  old  bull  through  the  heart;  then  lazily  climbed 
back  again  to  his  seat,  pluming  himself  no  doubt  on 
having  actually  killed  a  buffalo.  That  day  the  invincible 


THE   BUFFALO   CAMP.  339 

yager  drew  blood  for  the  first  and  last  time  during  the 
whole  journey. 

The  morning  was  a  bright  and  gay  one,  and  the  air  so 
clear  that  on  the  farthest  horizon  the  outline  of  the  pale 
blue  prairie  was  sharply  drawn  against  the  sky.  Shaw 
was  in  the  mood  for  hunting ;  he  rode  in  advance  of  the 
party,  and  before  long  we  saw  a  file  of  bulls  galloping  at 
full  speed  upon  a  green  swell  of  the  prairie  at  some  dis- 
tance in  front.  Shaw  came  scouring  along  behind  them, 
arrayed  in  his  red  shirt,  which  looked  very  well  in  the 
distance ;  he  gained  fast  on  the  fugitives,  and  as  the  fore- 
most bull  was  disappearing  behind  the  summit  of  the 
swell,  we  saw  him  in  the  act  of  assailing  the  hindmost ;  a 
smoke  sprang  from  the  muzzle  of  his  gun  and  floated 
away  before  the  wind  like  a  little  white  cloud ;  the  bull 
turned  upon  him,  and  just  then  the  rising  ground  con- 
cealed them  both  from  view. 

We  were  moving  forward  until  about  noon,  when  we 
stopped  by  the  side  of  the  Arkansas.  At  that  moment 
Shaw  appeared  riding  slowly  down  the  side  of  a  distant 
hill  5  his  horse  was  tired  and  jaded,  and  when  he  threw 
his  saddle  upon  the  ground,  I  observed  that  the  tails  of 
two  bulls  were  dangling  behind  it.  No  sooner  were  the 
horses  turned  loose  to  feed  than  Henry,  asking  Munroe 
to  go  with  him,  took  his  rifle  and  walked  quietly  away. 
Shaw,  Tete  Rouge,  and  I  sat  down  by  the  side  of  the  cart 
to  discuss  the  dinner  which  Deslauriers  placed  before  us, 
and  we  had  scarcely  finished  when  we  saw  Munroe  walk- 
ing towards  us  along  the  river  bank.  Henry,  he  said,  had 
killed  four  fat  cows,  and  had  sent  him  back  for  horses  to 
bring  in  the  meat.  Shaw  took  a  horse  for  himself  and 
another  for  Henry,  and  he  and  Munroe  left  the  camp  to- 
gether. After  a  short  absence  all  three  of  them  came 
back,  their  horses  loaded  with  the  choicest  parts  of  the 


340  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

meat.  We  kept  two  of  the  cows  for  ourselves,  and  gave  the 
others  to  Munroe  and  his  companions.  Deslauriers  seated 
himself  on  the  grass  before  the  pile  of  meat,  and  worked 
industriously  for  some  time  to  cut  it  into  thin  broad  sheets 
for  drying,  an  art  in  which  he  had  all  the  skill  of  an  In- 
dian squaw.  Long  before  night,  cords  of  raw  hide  were 
stretched  around  the  camp,  and  the  meat  was  hung  upon 
them  to  dry  in  the  sunshine  and  pure  air  of  the  prairie. 
Our  California  companions  were  less  successful  at  the 
work ;  but  they  accomplished  it  after  their  own  fashion, 
and  their  side  of  the  camp  was  soon  garnished  in  the  same 
manner  as  our  own. 

We  meant  to  remain  at  this  place  long  enough  to  pre- 
pare provisions  for  our  journey  to  the  frontier,  which,  as  we 
supposed,  might  occupy  about  a  month.  Had  the  distance 
been  twice  as  great  and  the  party  ten  times  as  large,  the 
rifle  of  Henry  Chatillon  would  have  supplied  meat  enough 
for  the  whole  within  two  days ;  we  were  obliged  to  remain, 
however,  until  it  should  be  dry  enough  for  transportation ; 
so  we  pitched  our  tent  and  made  other  arrangements  for 
a  permanent  camp.  The  California  men,  who  had  no 
such  shelter,  contented  themselves  with  arranging  their 
packs  on  the  grass  around  their  fire.  In  the  mean  time 
we  had  nothing  to  do  but  amuse  ourselves.  Our  tent  was 
within  a  rod  of  the  river,  if  the  broad  sand-beds,  with  a 
scanty  stream  of  water  coursing  here  and  there  along 
their  surface,  deserve  to  be  dignified  with  the  name  of 
river.  The  vast  flat  plains  on  either  side  were  almost  on 
a  level  with  the  sand-beds,  and  they  were  bounded  in  the 
distance  by  low,  monotonous  hills,  parallel  to  the  course 
ct  the  stream,,  All  was  one  expanse  of  grass ;  there  was 
no  wood  in  view,  except  some  trees  and  stunted  bushes 
upon  two  islands  which  rose  from  the  wet  sands  of  the 
river.  Yet  far  from  being  dull  and  tame,  the  scene  was 


THE    BUFFALO    CAMP.  341 

often  a  wild  and  animated  one ;  for  twice  a  day,  at  sun- 
rise and  at  noon,  the  buffalo  came  issuing  from  the  hills, 
slowly  advancing  in  their  grave  processions  to  drink  at 
the  river.  All  our  amusements  were  to  be  at  their  ex- 
pense. An  old  buffalo  bull  is  a  brute  of  unparalleled  ugli- 
ness. At  first  sight  of  him  every  feeling  of  pity  vanishes. 
The  cows  are  much  smaller  and  of  a  gentler  appearance, 
as  becomes  their  sex.  While  in  this  camp  we  forbore  to 
attack  them,  leaving  to  Henry  Chatillon,  who  could  better 
judge  their  quality,  the  task  of  killing  such  as  we  wanted 
for  use;  but  against  the  bulls  we  waged  an  unrelenting 
war.  Thousands  of  them  might  be  slaughtered  without 
causing  any  detriment  to  the  species,  for  their  numbers 
greatly  exceed  those  of  the  cows ;  it  is  the  hides  of  the  lat- 
ter alone  which  are  used  for  the  purposes  of  commerce  and 
for  making  the  lodges  of  the  Indians ;  and  the  destruction 
among  them  is  therefore  greatly  disproportionate. 

Our  horses  were  tired,  and  we  now  usually  hunted  on 
foot.  While  we  were  lying  on  the  grass  after  dinner, 
smoking,  talking,  or  laughing  at  Tete  Rouge,  one  of  us 
would  look  up  and  observe,  far  out  on  the  plains  beyond 
the  river,  certain  black  objects  slowly  approaching.  He 
would  inhale  a  parting  whiff  from  the  pipe,  then  rising 
lazily,  take  his  rifle,  which  leaned  against  the  cart,  throw 
over  his  shoulder  the  strap  of  his  pouch  and  powder-horn, 
and  with  his  moccasins  in  his  hand,  walk  across  the  sand 
towards  the  opposite  side  of  the  river.  This  was  very 
easy ;  for  though  the  sands  were  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
wide,  the  water  was  nowhere  more  than  two  feet  deep. 
The  farther  bank  was  about  four  or  five  feet  high,  and 
quite  perpendicular,  being  cut  away  by  the  water  in  spring. 
Tall  grass  grew  along  its  edge.  Putting  it  aside  with  his 
hand,  and  cautiously  looking  through  it,  the  hunter  can 
discern  the  huge  shaggy  back  of  the  bull  slowly  swaying 


342  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

to  and  fro,  as,  with  his  clumsy  swinging  gait,  he  advances 
towards  the  water.  The  buffalo  have  regular  paths  by 
which  they  come  down  to  drink.  Seeing  at  a  glance 
along  which  of  these  his  intended  victim  is  moving,  the 
hunter  crouches  under  the  bank  within  fifteen  or  twenty 
yards,  it  may  be,  of  the  point  where  the  path  enters  the 
river.  Here  he  sits  down  quietly  on  the  sand.  Listening 
intently,  he  hears  the  heavy  monotonous  tread  of  the  ap- 
proaching bull.  The  moment  after,  he  sees  a  motion 
among  the  long  weeds  and  grass  just  at  the  spot  where 
the  path  is  channelled  through  the  bank.  An  enormous 
black  head  is  thrust  out,  the  horns  just  visible  amid  the 
mass  of  tangled  mane.  Half  sliding,  half  plunging, 
down  comes  the  buffalo  upon  the  river-bed  below.  He 
steps  out  in  full  sight  upon  the  sands.  Just  before  him  a 
runnel  of  water  is  gliding,  and  he  bends  his  head  to  drink. 
You  may  hear  the  water  as  it  gurgles  down  his  capacious 
throat.  He  raises  his  head,  and  the  drops  trickle  from 
his  wet  beard.  He  stands  with  an  air  of  stupid  abstrac- 
tion, unconscious  of  the  lurking  danger.  Noiselessly  the 
hunter  cocks  his  rifle.  As  he  sits  upon  the  sand,  his 
knee  is  raised,  and  his  elbow  rests  upon  it,  that  he  may 
level  his  heavy  weapon  with  a  steadier  aim.  The  stock 
is  at  his  shoulder;  his  eye  ranges  along  the  barrel.  Still 
he  is  in  no  haste  to  fire.  The  bull,  with  slow  delibera- 
tion, begins  his  march  over  the  sands  to  the  other  side. 
He  advances  his  foreleg,  and  exposes  to  view  a  small 
spot,  denuded  of  hair,  just  behind  the  point  of  his  shoul- 
der ;  upon  this  the  hunter  brings  the  sight  of  his  rifle  to 
bear;  lightly  and  delicately  his  finger  presses  the  hair- 
trigger.  The  spiteful  crack  of  the  rifle  responds  to  his 
touch,  and  instantly  in  the  middle  of  the  bare  spot  ap- 
pears a  small  red  dot.  The  buffalo  shivers ;  death  has 
overtaken  him,  he  cannot  tell  from  whence ;  still  he  does 


THE    BUFFALO    CAMP.  343 

not  fall,  but  walks  heavily  forward,  as  if  nothing  had 
happened.  Yet  before  he  has  gone  far  out  upon  the  sand, 
you  see  him  stop ;  he  totters ;  his  knees  bend  under  him, 
and  his  head  sinks  forward  to  the  ground.  Then  his 
whole  vast  bulk  sways  to  one  side ;  he  rolls  over  on  the 
sand,  and  dies  with  a  scarcely  perceptible  struggle. 

Waylaying  the  buffalo  in  this  manner,  and  shooting 
them  as  they  come  to  water,  is  the  easiest  method  of 
hunting  them.  They  may  also  be  approached  by  crawling 
up  ravines,  or  behind  hills,  or  even  over  the  open  prairie. 
This  is  often  surprisingly  easy ;  but  at  other  times  it  re- 
quires the  utmost  skill  of  the  most  experienced  hunter. 
Henry  Chatillon  was  a  man  of  extraordinary  strength 
and  hardihood;  but  I  have  seen  him  return  to  camp 
quite  exhausted  with  his  efforts,  his  limbs  scratched  and 
wounded,  and  his  buckskin  dress  stuck  full  of  the  thorns 
of  the  prickly-pear,  among  which  he  had  been  crawling. 
Sometimes  he  would  lie  flat  upon  his  face,  and  drag  him- 
self along  in  this  position  for  many  rods  together. 

On  the  second  day  of  our  stay  at  this  place,  Henry 
went  out  for  an  afternoon  hunt.  Shaw  and  I  remained 
in  camp,  until,  observing  some  bulls  approaching  the 
water  upon  the  other  side  of  the  river,  we  crossed  over  to 
attack  them.  They  were  so  near,  however,  that  before 
we  could  get  under  cover  of  the  bank  our  appearance  as 
we  walked  over  the  sands  alarmed  them.  Turning  round 
before  coming  within  gun-shot,  they  began  to  move  off  to 
the  right  in  a  direction  parallel  to  the  river.  I  climbed 
up  the  bank  and  ran  after  them.  They  were  walking 
swiftly,  and  before  I  could  come  within  gun-shot  distance 
they  slowly  wheeled  about  and  faced  me.  Before  they 
had  turned  far  enough  to  see  me  I  had  fallen  flat  on  my 
face.  For  a  moment  they  stood  and  stared  at  the  strange 
object  upon  the  grass;  then  turning  away,  again  they 


344  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

walked  on  as  before;  and  I,  rising  immediately,  ran  once 
more  in  pursuit.  Again  they  wheeled  about,  and  again  I 
fell  prostrate.  Repeating  this  three  or  four  times,  I  came 
at  length  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  fugitives,  and  as 
I  saw  them  turning  again  I  sat  down  and  levelled  nry 
rifle.  The  one  in  the  centre  was  the  largest  1  had  eve* 
seen.  I  shot  him  behind  the  shoulder.  His  two  com- 
panions ran  off.  He  attempted  to  follow,  but  soon  camt 
to  a  stand,  and  at  length  lay  down  as  quietly  as  an  ox 
chewing  the  cud.  Cautiously  approaching  him,  I  saw  by 
his  dull  and  jelly-like  eye  that  he  was  dead. 

When  I  began  the  chase,  the  prairie  was  almost  ten- 
antless ;  but  a  great  multitude  of  buffalo  had  suddenly 
thronged  upon  it,  and  looking  up  I  saw  within  fifty  rods 
a  heavy,  dark  column  stretching  to  the  right  and  left  as 
far  as  I  could  see.  I  walked  towards  them.  My  approach 
did  not  alarm  them  in  the  least.  The  column  itself  con- 
sisted almost  entirely  of  cows  and  calves,  but  a  great 
many  old  bulls  were  ranging  about  the  prairie  on  its  flank, 
and  as  I  drew  near  they  faced  towards  me  with  such  a 
grim  and  ferocious  look  that  I  thought  it  best  to  proceed 
no  farther.  Indeed  I  was  already  within  close  rifle-shot 
of  the  column,  and  I  sat  down  on  the  ground  to  watch 
their  movements.  Sometimes  the  whole  would  stand 
still,  their  heads  all  one  way;  then  they  would  trot  for- 
ward, as  if  by  a  common  impulse,  their  hoofs  and  horns 
clattering  together  as  they  moved.  I  soon  began  to  hear 
at  a  distance  on  the  left  the  sharp  reports  of  a  rifle,  again 
and  again  repeated ;  and  not  long  after,  dull  and  heavy 
sounds  succeeded,  which  I  recognized  as  the  familiar  voice 
of  Shaw's  double-barrelled  gun.  Whetf  Henry's  rifle  was 
at  work  there  was  always  meat  to  be  brought  in.  I  went 
back  across  the  river  for  a  horse,  and,  returning,  reached 
the  spot  where  the  hunters  were  standing.  The  buffalo 


THE   BUFFALO    CAMP.  345 

were  visible  on  the  distant  prairie.  The  living  had  re- 
treated from  the  ground,  but  ten  or  twelve  carcasses 
were  scattered  in  various  directions.  Henry,  knife  in 
hand,  was  stooping  over  a  dead  cow,  cutting  away  ths 
best  and  fattest  of  the  meat. 

When  Shaw  left  me  he  had  walked  down  for  some  dis- 
tance under  the  river-bank  to  find  another  bull.  At 
length  he  saw  the  plains  covered  with  the  host  of  buffalo, 
and  soon  after  heard  the  crack  of  Henry's  rifle.  Ascend- 
ing the  bank,  he  crawled  through  the  grass,  which  for  a 
rod  or  two  from  the  river  was  very  high  and  rank.  He 
had  not  crawled  far  before  to  his  astonishment  he  saw 
Henry  standing  erect  upon  the  prairie,  almost  surrounded 
by  the  buffalo.  Henry  was  in  his  element.  Quite  uncon- 
scious that  any  one  was  looking  at  him,  he  stood  at  the 
full  height  of  his  tall  figure,  one  hand  resting  upon  his 
side,  and  the  other  arm  leaning  carelessly  on  the  muzzle 
of  his  rifle.  His  eye  was  ranging  over  the  singular 
assemblage  around  him.  Now  and  then  he  would  select 
such  a  cow  as  suited  him,  level  his  rifle,  and  shoot  her 
dead ;  then  quietly  reloading,  he  would  resume  his  for- 
mer position.  The  buffalo  seemed  no  more  to  regard  his 
presence  than  if  he  were  one  of  themselves;  the  bulls 
were  bellowing  and  butting  at  each  other,  or  rolling  about 
in  the  dust.  A  group  of  buffalo  would  gather  about  the 
carcass  of  a  dead  cow,  snuffing  at  her  wounds ;  and  some- 
times they  would  come  behind  those  that  had  not  yet 
fallen,  and  endeavor  to  push  them  from  the  spot.  Now 
and  then  some  old  bull  would  face  towards  Henry  with  an 
air  of  stupid  amazement,  but  none  seemed  inclined  to 
attack  or  fly  from  him.  For  some  time  Shaw  lay  among 
the  grass,  looking  in  surprise  at  this  extraordinary  sight; 
at  length  he  crawled  cautiously  forward,  and  spoke  in  a 
low  voice  to  Henry,  who  told  him  to  rise  and  come  on. 


346  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

Still  the  buffalo  showed  no  sign  of  fear;  they  remained 
gathered  about  their  dead  companions.  Henry  had  already 
killed  as  many  cows  as  we  wanted  for  use,  and  Shaw, 
kneeling  behind  one  of  the  carcasses,  shot  five  bulls 
before  the  rest  thought  it  necessary  to  disperse. 

The  frequent  stupidity  and  infatuation  of  the  buffalo 
seems  the  more  remarkable  from  the  contrast  it  offers  to 
their  wildness  and  wariness  at  other  times.  Henry  knew 
all  their  peculiarities ;  he  had  studied  them  as  a  scholar 
studies  his  books,  and  derived  quite  as  much  pleasure 
from  the  occupation.  The  buffalo  were  a  kind  of  com- 
panions to  him,  and,  as  he  said,  he  never  felt  alone  when 
they  were  about  him.  He  took  great  pride  in  his  skill  in 
hunting.  He  was  one  of  the  most  modest  of  men;  yet 
in  the  simplicity  and  frankness  of  his  character,  it  was 
clear  that  he  looked  upon  his  pre-eminence  in  this  re- 
spect as  a  thing  too  palpable  and  well-established  to  be 
disputed.  But  whatever  may  have  been  his  estimate  of 
his  own  skill,  it  was  rather  below  than  above  that  which 
others  placed  upon  it.  The  only  time  that  I  ever  saw  a 
shade  of  scorn  darken  his  face,  was  when  two  volunteer 
soldiers,  who  had  just  killed  a  buffalo  for  the  first  time, 
undertook  to  instruct  him  as  to  the  best  method  of  "  ap- 
proaching." Henry  always  seemed  to  think  that  he  had 
a  sort  of  prescriptive  right  to  the  buffalo,  and  to  look 
upon  them  as  something  belonging  to  himself.  Nothing 
excited  his  indignation  so  much  as  any  wanton  destruc- 
tion committed  among  the  cows,  and  in  his  view  shooting 
a  calf  was  a  cardinal  sin. 

Henry  Chatillon  and  Tete  Rouge  were  of  the  same 
age ;  that  is,  about  thirty.  Henry  was  twice  as  large, 
and  about  six  times  as  strong  as  Tete  Rouge.  Henry's 
face  was  roughened  by  winds  and  storms;  Tete  Rouge's 
was  bloated  by  sherry-cobblers  and  brandy-toddy.  Henry 


THE   BUFFALO   CAMP.  347 

talked  of  Indians  and  buffalo ;  Tete  Rouge  of  theatres 
and  oyster-cellars.  Henry  had  led  a  life  of  hardship  and 
privation ;  Tete  Rouge  never  had  a  whim  which  he  would 
not  gratify  at  the  first  moment  he  was  able.  Henry 
moreover  was  the  most  disinterested  man  I  ever  saw; 
while  Tete  Rouge,  though  equally  good-natured  in  his 
way,  cared  for  nobody  but  himself.  Yet  we  would  not 
have  lost  him  on  any  account;  he  served  the  purpose  of 
a  jester  in  a  feudal  castle;  our  camp  would  have  been 
lifeless  without  him.  For  the  past  week  he  had  fattened 
in  a  most  amazing  manner;  and,  indeed,  this  was  not  at 
all  surprising,  since  his  appetite  was  inordinate.  He  was 
eating  from  morning  till  night;  half  the  time  he  would 
be  at  work  cooking  some  private  repast  for  himself,  and 
he  paid  a  visit  to  the  coffee-pot  eight  or  ten  times  a  day. 
His  rueful  and  disconsolate  face  became  jovial  and  rubi- 
cund, his  eyes  stood  out  like  a  lobster's,  and  his  spirits, 
which  before  were  sunk  to  the  depths  of  despondency, 
were  now  elated  in  proportion ;  all  day  he  was  singing, 
whistling,  laughing,  and  telling  stories.  Being  mortally 
afraid  of  Jim  Gurney,  he  kept  close  in  the  neighborhood 
of  our  tent.  As  he  had  seen  an  abundance  of  low  fast 
life,  and  had  a  considerable  fund  of  humor,  his  anecdotes 
were  extremely  amusing,  especially  since  he  never  hesi- 
tated to  place  himself  in  a  ludicrous  point  of  view,  pro- 
vided he  could  raise  a  laugh  by  doing  so.  Tete  Rouge, 
however,  was  sometimes  rather  troublesome ;  he  had  an 
inveterate  habit  of  pilfering  provisions  at  all  times  of  the 
day.  He  set  ridicule  at  defiance ;  and  would  never  have 
given  over  his  tricks,  even  if  they  had  drawn  upon  him 
the  scorn  of  the  whole  party.  Now  and  then,  indeed, 
something  worse  than  laughter  fell  to  his  share ;  on  these 
occasions  he  would  exhibit  much  contrition,  but  half  an 
hour  after  we  would  generally  observe  him  stealing  round 


348  THE   OKEGON    TRAIL. 

to  the  box  at  the  back  of  the  cart,  and  slyly  making  off 
with  the  provisions  which  Deslauriers  had  laid  by  for 
supper.  He  was  fond  of  smoking ;  but  having  no  tobacco 
of  his  own,  we  used  to  provide  him  with  as  much  as  he 
wanted,  a  small  piece  at  a  time.  At  first  we  gave  him 
half  a  pound  together;  but  this  experiment  proved  an 
entire  failure,  for  he  invariably  lost  not  only  the  tobacco, 
but  the  knife  intrusted  to  him  for  cutting  it,  and  a  few 
minutes  after  he  would  come  to  us  with  many  apologies 
and  beg  for  more. 

We  had  been  two  days  at  this  camp,  and  some  of  the 
meat  was  nearly  fit  for  transportation,  when  a  storm  came 
suddenly  upon  us.  About  sunset  the  whole  sky  grew  as 
black  as  ink,  and  the  long  grass  at  the  edge  of  the  river 
bent  and  rose  mournfully  with  the  first  gusts  of  the  ap- 
proaching hurricane.  Munroe  and  his  two  companions 
brought  their  guns  and  placed  them  under  cover  of  our 
tent.  Having  no  shelter  for  themselves,  they  built  a  fire  of 
driftwood  that  might  have  defied  a  cataract,  and,  wrapped 
in  their  buffalo-robes,  sat  on  the  ground  around  it  to 
bide  the  fury  of  the  storm.  Deslauriers  ensconced  him- 
self under  the  cover  of  the  cart.  Shaw  and  I,  together 
with  Henry  and  Tete  Rouge,  crowded  into  the  little  tent  ; 
but  first  of  all  the  dried  meat  was  piled  together,  and 
well  protected  by  buffalo-robes  pinned  firmly  to  the  ground. 
About  nine  o'clock  the  storm  broke  amid  absolute  dark- 
ness; it  blew  a  gale,  and  torrents  of  rain  roared  over 
the  boundless  expanse  of  open  prairie.  Our  tent  was 
filled  with  mist  and  spray  beating  through  the  canvas, 
and  saturating  every  thing  within.  We  could  only  dis- 
tinguish each  other  at  short  intervals  by  the  dazzling 
flashes  of  lightning,  which  displayed  the  whole  waste 
around  us  with  its  momentary  glare.  We  had  our  fears 
for  the  tent;  but  for  an  hour  or  two  it  stood  fast,  until 


THE   BUFFALO    CAMP.  349 

at  length  the  cap  gave  way  before  a  furious  blast;  the 
pols  tore  through  the  top,  and  in  an  instant  we  were 
half  suffocated  by  the  cold  and  dripping  folds  of  the 
canvas,  which  fell  down  upon  us.  Seizing  upon  our 
guns,  we  placed  them  erect,  in  order  to  lift  the  saturated 
cloth  above  our  heads.  In  this  agreeable  situation,  in- 
volved among  wet  blankets  and  buffalo -robes,  we  spent 
several  hours  of  the  night,  during  which  the  storm  would 
not  abate  for  a  moment,  but  pelted  down  with  merci- 
less fury.  Before  long  the  water  gathered  beneath  us 
in  a  pool  two  or  three  inches  deep;  so  that  for  a  con- 
siderable part  of  the  night  we  were  partially  immersed 
in  a  cold  bath.  In  spite  of  all  this,  Tete  Rouge's  flow 
of  spirits  did  not  fail  him;  he  laughed,  whistled,  and 
sang  in  defiance  of  the  storm,  and  that  night  paid  off 
the  long  arrears  of  ridicule  which  he  owed  us.  While 
we  lay  in  silence,  enduring  the  infliction  with  what 
philosophy  we  could  muster,  Tete  Rouge,  who  was  in- 
toxicated with  animal  spirits,  cracked  jokes  at  our  ex- 
pense by  the  hour  together.  At  about  three  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  preferring  "  the  tyranny  of  the  open  night " 
to  such  a  wretched  shelter,  we  crawled  out  from  beneath 
the  fallen  canvas.  The  wind  had  abated,  but  the  rain 
fell  steadily.  The  fire  of  the  California  men  still  blazed 
amid  the  darkness,  and  we  joined  them  as  they  sat 
around  it.  We  made  ready  some  hot  coffee  by  way  of 
refreshment;  but  when  some  of  the  party  sought  to 
replenish  their  cups,  it  was  found  that  Tete  Rouge, 
having  disposed  of  his  own  share,  had  privately  ab- 
stracted the  coffee-pot  and  drunk  the  rest  of  the  con- 
tents out  of  the  spout. 

In  the  morning,  to  our  great  joy,  an  unclouded  sun 
rose  upon  the  prairie.  We  presented  a  rather  laughable 
appearance,  for  the  cold  and  clammy  buckskin,  saturated 


350  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

with  water,  clung  fast  to  our  limbs.  The  light  wind  and 
warm  sunshine  soon  dried  it  again,  and  then  we  were  all 
incased  in  armor  of  intolerable  stiffness.  Roaming  all 
day  over  the  prairie  and  shooting  two  or  three  bulls, 
were  scarcely  enough  to  restore  the  stiffened  leather  to 
its  usual  pliancy. 

Besides  Henry  Chatillon,  Shaw  and  I  were  the  only 
hunters  in  the  party.  Munroe  this  morning  made  an 
attempt  to  run  a  buffalo,  but  his  horse  could  not  come 
up  to  the  game.  Shaw  went  out  with  him,  and  being 
better  mounted  soon  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  the 
herd.  Seeing  nothing  but  cows  and  calves  around  him, 
he  checked  his  horse.  An  old  bull  came  galloping  on 
the  open  prairie  at  some  distance  behind,  and  turning, 
Shaw  rode  across  his  path,  levelling  his  gun  as  he  passed, 
and  shooting  him  through  the  shoulder  into  the  heart. 

A  great  flock  of  buzzards  was  usually  soaring  about  a 
few  trees  that  stood  on  the  island  just  below  our  camp. 
Throughout  the  whole  of  yesterday  we  had  noticed  an 
eagle  among  them ;  to-day  he  was  still  there ;  and  T3te 
Rouge,  declaring  that  he  would  kill  the  bird  of  America, 
boiTowed  Deslauriers's  gun  and  set  out  on  his  unpatri- 
otic mission.  As  might  have  been  expected,  the  eagle 
suffered  no  harm  at  his  hands.  He  soon  returned,  say- 
ing that  he  could  not  find  him,  but  had  shot  a  buzzard 
instead.  Being  required  to  produce  the  bird  in  proof  of 
his  assertion,  he  said  he  believed  that  he  was  not  quite 
dead,  but  he  must  be  hurt,  from  the  swiftness  with  which 
he  flew  off. 

"If  you  want,"  said  Tete  Rouge,  "I'll  go  and  get  one 
of  his  feathers;  I  knocked  off  plenty  of  them  when  I 
shot  him." 

Just  opposite  our  camp,  was  another  island  covered 
with  bushes,  and  behind  it  was  a  deep  pool  of  water, 


THE  BUFFALO    CAMP.  351 

while  two  or  three  considerable  streams  coursed  over  the 
sand  not  far  off.  I  was  bathing  at  this  place  in  the 
afternoon  when  a  white  wolf,  larger  than  the  largest 
Newfoundland  dog,  ran  out  from  behind  the  point  of  the 
island,  and  galloped  leisurely  over  the  sand  not  half  a 
stone's-throw  distant.  I  could  plainly  see  his  red  eyes 
and  the  bristles  about  his  snout ;  he  was  an  ugly  scoun- 
drel, with  a  bushy  tail,  a  large  head,  and  a  most  repul- 
sive countenance.  Having  neither  rifle  to  shoot  nor 
stone  to  pelt  him  with,  I  was  looking  after  some  missile 
for  his  benefit,  when  the  report  of  a  gun  came  from  the 
camp,  and  the  ball  threw  up  the  sand  just  beyond  him; 
at  this  he  gave  a  slight  jump,  and  stretched  away  so 
swiftly  that  he  soon  dwindled  into  a  mere  speck  on  the 
distant  sand-beds.  The  number  of  carcasses  that  by  this 
time  were  lying  about  the  neighboring  prairie  summoned 
the  wolves  from  every  quarter ;  the  spot  where  Shaw  and 
Henry  had  hunted  together  soon  became  their  favorite 
resort,  for  here  about  a  dozen  dead  buffalo  were  ferment- 
ing under  the  hot  sun.  I  used  often  to  go  over  the  river 
and  watch  them  at  their  meal.  By  lying  under  the  bank 
it  was  easy  to  get  a  full  view  of  them.  There  were  three 
different  kinds :  the  white  wolves  and  the  gray  wolves, 
both  very  large,  and  besides  these  the  small  prairie 
wolves,  not  much  bigger  than  spaniels.  They  would 
howl  and  fight  in  a  crowd  around  a  single  carcass,  yet 
they  were  so  watchful,  and  their  senses  so  acute,  that  I 
never  was  able  to  crawl  within  a  fair  shooting  distance ; 
whenever  I  attempted  it,  they  would  all  scatter  at  once 
and  glide  silently  away  through  the  tall  grass.  The  air 
above  this  spot  was  always  full  of  turkey-buzzards  or 
black  vultures ;  whenever  the  wolves  left  a  carcass  they 
would  descend  upon  it,  and  cover  it  so  densely  that  a 
rifle  bullet  shot  at  random  among  the  gormandizing 


352  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

crowd  would  generally  strike  down  two  or  three  of  them. 
These  birds  would  often  sail  by  scores  just  above  our 
camp,  their  broad  black  wings  seeming  half  transparent 
as  they  expanded  them  against  the  bright  sky.  The 
wolves  and  the  buzzards  thickened  about  us  every  hour, 
and  two  or  three  eagles  also  came  to  the  feast.  I  killed 
a  bull  within  rifle-shot  of  the  camp;  that  night  the 
wolves  made  a  fearful  howling  close  at  hand,  and  in  the 
morning  the  carcass  was  completely  hollowed  out  by 
these  voracious  feeders. 

After  remaining  four  days  at  this  camp  we  prepared  to 
leave  it.  We  had  for  our  own  part  about  five  hundred 
pounds  of  dried  meat,  and  the  California  men  had  pre- 
pared some  three  hundred  more;  this  consisted  of  the 
fattest  and  choicest  parts  of  eight  or  nine  cows,  a  small 
quantity  only  being  taken  from  each,  and  the  rest  aban- 
doned to  the  wolves.  The  pack  animals  were  laden,  the 
horses  saddled,  and  the  mules  harnessed  to  the  cart. 
Even  Tete  Rouge  was  ready  at  last,  and  slowly  moving 
from  the  ground,  we  resumed  our  journey  eastward. 
When  we  had  advanced  about  a  mile,  Shaw  missed  a 
valuable  hunting -knife,  and  turned  back  in  search  of  it, 
thinking  that  he  had  left  it  at  the  camp.  The  day  was 
dark  and  gloomy.  The  ashes  of  the  fires  were  still 
smoking  by  the  river  side ;  the  grass  around  them  was 
trampled  down  by  men  and  horses,  and  strewn  with  all 
the  litter  of  a  camp.  Our  departure  had  been  a  gather- 
ing signal  to  the  birds  and  beasts  of  prey.  Scores  of 
wolves  were  prowling  about  the  smouldering  fires,  while 
multitudes  were  roaming  over  the  neighboring  prairie ; 
they  all  fled  as  Shaw  approached,  some  running  over  the 
sand-beds  and  some  over  the  grassy  plains.  The  vultures 
in  great  clouds  were  soaring  overhead,  and  the  dead  bull 
near  the  camp  was  completely  blackened  by  the  flock 


THE    BUFFALO    CAMP.  353 

thp  t  had  alighted  upon  it ;  they  flapped  their  broad  wings, 
and  stretched  upwards  their  crested  heads  and  long 
skinny  necks,  fearing  to  remain,  yet  reluctant  to  leave 
their  disgusting  feast.  As  he  searched  about  the  fires 
he  saw  the  wolves  seated  on  the  hills  waiting  for  his  de- 
parture. Having  looked  in  vain  for  his  knife,  he  mounted 
again,  and  left  the  wolves  and  the  vultures  to  banquet 
undisturbed. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

DOWN  THE  ARKANSAS. 

IN  the  summer  of  1846,  the  wild  and  lonely  banks  of 
the  Upper  Arkansas  beheld  for  the  first  time  the 
passage  of  an  army.  General  Kearney,  on  his  march  to 
Santa  Fd,  adopted  this  route  in  preference  to  the  old  trail 
of  the  Cimarron.  When  we  were  on  the  Arkansas,  the 
main  body  of  the  troops  had  already  passed  on;  Price's 
Missouri  regiment,  however,  was  still  on  its  way,  having 
left  the  frontier  much  later  than  the  rest;  and  about 
this  time  we  began  to  meet  one  or  two  companies  at  a 
time  moving  along  the  trail.  No  men  ever  embarked 
upon  a  military  expedition  with  a  greater  love  for  the 
work  before  them  than  the  Missourians ;  but  if  discipline 
and  subordination  are  the  criterion  of  merit,  they  were 
worthless  soldiers  indeed.  Yet  when  their  exploits  have 
rung  through  all  America,  it  would  be  absurd  to  deny 
that  they  were  excellent  irregular  troops.  Their  victories 
were  gained  in  the  teeth  of  every  established  precedent 
of  warfare ;  and  were  owing  to  a  combination  of  military 
qualities  in  the  men  themselves.  Doniphan's  regiment 
marched  through  New  Mexico  more  like  a  band  of  free 
companions  than  like  the  paid  soldiers  of  a  modern 
government.  When  General  Taylor  complimented  him 
on  his  success  at  Sacramento  and  elsewhere,  the  Colonel's 
reply  very  well  illustrates  the  relations  which  subsisted 
between  the  officers  and  men  of  his  command. 


DOWN   THE   ARKANSAS.  355 

"I  don't  know  any  thing  of  the  manoeuvres.  The 
boys  kept  coming  to  me,  to  let  them  charge ;  and  when 
I  saw  a  good  opportunity,  I  told  them  they  might  go. 
They  were  off  like  a  shot,  and  that's  all  I  know  about 
it." 

The  backwoods  lawyer  was  better  fitted  to  conciliate 
the  good-will  than  to  command  the  obedience  of  his  men. 
There  were  many  serving  under  him,  who  both  from 
character  and  education  could  better  have  held  command 
than  he. 

At  the  battle  of  Sacramento  his  frontiersmen  fought 
under  every  disadvantage.  The  Mexicans  had  chosen 
their  position;  they  were  drawn  up  across  the  valley 
that  led  to  their  native  city  of  Chihuahua ;  their  whole 
front  was  covered  by  intrenchments  and  defended  by 
batteries,  and  they  outnumbered  the  invaders  five  to  one. 
An  eagle  flew  over  the  Americans,  and  a  deep  murmur 
rose  along  their  lines.  The  enemy's  batteries  opened; 
long  they  remained  under  fire,  but  when  at  length  the 
word  was  given,  they  shouted  and  ran  forward.  In  one 
of  the  divisions,  when  mid-way  to  the  enemy  a  drunken 
officer  ordered  a  halt;  the  exasperated  men  hesitated 
to  obey. 

"  Forward,  boys !  "  cried  a  private  from  the  ranks ;  and 
the  Americans  rushed  like  tigers  upon  the  enemy.  Four 
hundred  Mexicans  were  slain  upon  the  spot,  and  the  rest 
fled,  scattering  over  the  plain  like  sheep.  The  standards, 
cannon,  and  baggage  were  taken,  and  among  the  rest  a 
wagon  laden  with  cords,  which  the  Mexicans,  in  the  ful- 
ness of  their  confidence,  had  made  ready  for  tying  the 
American  prisoners. 

Doniphan's  volunteers,  who  gained  this  victory,  passed 
up  with  the  main  army;  but  Price's  soldiers,  whom  we 
now  met,  were  men  from  the  same  neighborhood,  precisely 


356  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

similar  in  character,  manners,  and  appearance.  One 
morning,  as  we  were  descending  upon  a  wide  meadow, 
where  we  meant  to  rest  for  an  hour  or  two,  we  saw  a 
body  of  horsemen  approaching  at  a  distance.  In  order 
to  find  water,  we  were  obliged  to  turn  aside  to  the  river 
bank,  a  full  half  mile  from  the  trail.  Here  we  put  up  a 
kind  of  awning,  and  spreading  buffalo-robes  on  the  ground 
Shaw  and  I  sat  down  to  smoke. 

"  We  are  going  to  catch  it  now,"  said  Shaw;  " look  at 
those  fellows;  there'll  be  no  peace  for  us  here." 

And  in  truth  about  half  the  volunteers  had  straggled 
away  from  the  line  of  march,  and  were  riding  over  the 
meadow  towards  us. 

"  How  are  you  ?  "  said  the  first  who  came  up,  alighting 
from  his  horse  and  throwing  himself  upon  the  ground. 
The  rest  followed  close,  and  a  score  of  them  soon  gathered 
about  us,  some  lying  at  full  length  and  some  sitting  on 
horseback.  They  all  belonged  to  a  company  raised  in 
St.  Louis.  There  were  some  ruffian  faces  among  them, 
and  some  haggard  with  debauchery;  but  on  the  whole 
they  were  extremely  good-looking  men,  superior  beyond 
measure  to  the  ordinary  rank  and  file  of  an  army.  Ex- 
cept that  they  were  booted  to  the  knees,  they  wore  their 
belts  and  military  trappings  over  the  ordinary  dress  of 
citizens.  Besides  their  swords  and  holster  pistols,  they 
carried  slung  from  their  saddles  the  excellent  Springfield 
carbines,  loaded  at  the  breech.  They  inquired  the  char- 
acter of  our  party,  and  were  anxious  to  know  the  prospect 
of  killing  buffalo,  and  the  chance  that  their  horses  would 
stand  the  journey  to  Santa  Fe\  All  this  was  well  enough, 
but  a  moment  after  a  worse  visitation  came  upon  us. 

"How  are  you,  strangers?  whar  are  you  going  and 
whar  are  you  from?"  said  a  fellow,  who  came  trotting 
up  with  an  old  straw  hat  on  his  head.  He  was  dressed 


DOWN   THE   ARKANSAS.  357 

in  the  coarsest  brown  homespun  cloth.  His  face  was 
rather  sallow  from  fever-and-ague,  and  his  tall  figure, 
though  strong  and  sinewy,  had  a  lean  angular  look,  which, 
together  with  his  boorish  seat  on  horseback,  gave  him  an 
appearance  any  thing  but  graceful.  More  of  the  same 
stamp  were  close  behind  him.  Their  company  was  raised 
in  one  of  the  frontier  counties,  and  we  soon  had  abundant 
evidence  of  their  rustic  breeding;  they  came  crowding 
round  by  scores,  pushing  between  our  first  visitors,  and 
staring  at  us  with  unabashed  faces. 

"Are  you  the  captain?"  asked  one  fellow. 

"  What's  your  business  out  here  ?  "  asked  another. 

"  Whar  do  you  live  when  you're  to  home  ?"  said  a  third. 

"I  reckon  you're  traders,"  surmised  a  fourth;  and  to 
crown  the  whole,  one  of  them  came  confidentially  to  my 
side  and  inquired  in  a  low  voice,  "  What's  your  partner's 
name?" 

As  each  new  comer  repeated  the  same  questions,  the 
nuisance  became  intolerable.  Our  military  visitors  were 
soon  disgusted  at  the  concise  nature  of  our  replies,  and 
we  could  overhear  them  muttering  curses.  While  we  sat 
smoking,  not  in  the  best  imaginable  humor,  Tete  Rouge's 
tongue  was  not  idle.  He  never  forgot  his  military  char- 
acter, and  during  the  whole  interview  he  was  incessantly 
busy  among  his  fellow-soldiers.  At  length  we  placed 
him  on  the  ground  before  us,  and  told  him  that  he  might 
play  the  part  of  spokesman.  Tete  Rouge  was  delighted, 
and  we  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  him  gabble  at 
such  a  rate  that  the  torrent  of  questions  was  in  a  great 
measure  diverted  from  us.  A  little  while  after,  a  cannon 
with  four  horses  came  lumbering  up  behind  the  crowd ; 
and  the  driver,  who  was  perched  on  one  of  the  animals, 
stretching  his  neck  so  as  to  look  over  the  rest  of  the  men, 
called  out,  — 


358  THE    OREGON   TEAIL. 

"  Whar  are  you  from,  and  what's  your  business  ?  " 

The  captain  of  one  of  the  companies  was  among  our 
visitors,  drawn  by  the  same  curiosity  that  had  attracted 
his  men.  Unless  their  faces  belied  them,  not  a  few  in  the 
crowd  might  with  great  advantage  have  changed  places 
with  their  commander. 

"Well,  men,"  said  he,  lazily  rising  from  the  ground 
where  he  had  been  lounging,  "  it's  getting  late,  I  reckon 
we'd  better  be  moving." 

"I  shan't  start  yet  anyhow,"  said  one  fellow,  who  was 
lying  half  asleep  with  his  head  resting  on  his  arm. 

"Don't  be  in  a  hurry,  Captain,"  added  the  lieutenant. 

"Well,  have  it  your  own  way,  we'll  wait  a  while 
longer,"  replied  the  obsequious  commander. 

At  length,  however,  our  visitors  went  straggling  away 
as  they  had  come,  and  we,  to  our  great  relief,  were  left 
alone  again. 

No  one  was  more  relieved  than  Deslauriers  by  the  de- 
parture of  the  volunteers ;  for  dinner  was  getting  colder 
every  moment.  He  spread  a  well-whitened  buffalo-hide 
upon  the  grass,  placed  in  the  middle  the  juicy  hump  of  a 
fat  cow,  ranged  around  it  the  tin  plates  and  cups,  and 
then  announced  that  all  was  ready.  Tete  Rouge,  with 
his  usual  alacrity  on  such  occasions,  was  the  first  to  take 
his  seat.  In  his  former  capacity  of  steamboat  clerk,  he 
had  learned  to  prefix  the  honorary  Mister  to  everybody's 
name,  whether  of  high  or  low  degree ;  so  Jim  Gurney  was 
Mr.  Gurney,  Henry  was  Mr.  Henry,  and  even  Deslauriers, 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  heard  himself  addressed  as 
Mr.  Deslauriers.  This  did  not  prevent  his  conceiving  a 
violent  enmity  against  Tete  Rouge,  who,  in  his  futile 
though  praiseworthy  attempts  to  make  himself  useful, 
used  always  to  intermeddle  with  cooking  the  dinners. 
Deslauriers 's  disposition  knew  no  medium  between  smiles 


DOWN   THE   ARKANSAS.  359 

and  sunshine  and  a  downright  tornado  of  wrath ;  he  said 
nothing  to  Tete  Rouge,  but  his  wrongs  rankled  in  his 
breast.  T§te  Rouge  had  taken  his  place  at  dinner;  it 
was  his  happiest  moment;  he  sat  enveloped  in  the  old 
buffalo-coat,  sleeves  turned  up  in  preparation  for  the  work, 
and  his  short  legs  crossed  on  the  grass  before  him ;  he 
had  a  cup  of  coffee  by  his  side  and  his  knife  ready  in  his 
hand,  and  while  he  looked  upon  the  fat  hump  ribs,  his 
eyes  dilated  with  anticipation.  Deslauriers  sat  opposite  to 
him,  and  the  rest  of  us  by  this  time  had  taken  our  seats. 

"How  is  this,  Deslauriers?  You  haven't  given  us 
bread  enough." 

At  this  Deslauriers 's  placid  face  flew  into  a  paroxysm 
of  contortions.  He  grinned  with  wrath,  chattered,  gestic- 
ulated, and  hurled  forth  a  volley  of  incoherent  words  in 
broken  English  at  the  astonished  Tete  Rouge.  It  was 
just  possible  to  make  out  that  he  was  accusing  him  of 
having  stolen  and  eaten  four  large  cakes  which  had  been 
laid  by  for  dinner.  Tete  Rouge,  confounded  at  this  sud- 
den attack,  stared  at  his  assailant  for  a  moment  in  dumb 
amazement,  with  mouth  and  eyes  wide  open.  At  last  he 
found  speech,  and  protested  that  the  accusation  was  false ; 
and  that  he  could  not  conceive  how  he  had  offended  Mr. 
Deslauriers,  or  provoked  him  to  use  such  ungentlemanly 
expressions.  The  tempest  of  words  raged  with  such  fury 
that  nothing  else  could  be  heard.  But  Tete  Rouge  from 
his  greater  command  of  English  had  a  manifest  advan- 
tage over  Deslauriers,  who,  after  sputtering  and  grimacing 
for  a  while,  found  his  words  quite  inadequate  to  the  ex- 
pression of  his  wrath.  He  jumped  up  and  vanished, 
jerking  out  between  his  teeth  one  furious  sacre  enfant  de 
garce  !  a  Canadian  title  of  honor,  made  doubly  emphatic 
by  being  usually  applied  together  with  a  cut  of  the  whip 
to  refractory  mules  and  horses. 


360  THE    OREGON    TRAIL 

The  next  morning  we  saw  an  old  buffalo  bull  escorting 
his  cow  with  two  small  calves  over  the  prairie.  Close 
behind  came  four  or  five  large  white  wolves,  sneaking 
stealthily  through  the  long  meadow-grass,  and  watching 
for  the  moment  when  one  of  the  children  should  chance 
to  lag  behind  his  parents.  The  old  bull  kept  well  on  his 
guard,  and  faced  about  now  and  then  to  keep  the  prowling 
ruffians  at  a  distance. 

As  we  approached  our  nooning-place,  we  saw  five  or  six 
buffalo  standing  at  the  summit  of  a  tall  bluff.  Trotting 
forward  to  the  spot  where  we  meant  to  stop,  I  flung  off 
my  saddle  and  turned  my  horse  loose.  By  making  a  cir- 
cuit under  cover  of  some  rising  ground,  I  reached  the 
foot  of  the  bluff  unnoticed,  and  climbed  up  its  steep 
side.  Lying  under  the  brow  of  the  declivity,  I  prepared 
to  fire  at  the  buffalo,  who  stood  on  the  flat  surface  above, 
not  five  yards  distant.  The  gleaming  rifle-barrel  levelled 
over  the  edge  caught  their  notice,  and  they  turned  and 
ran.  Close  as  they  were,  it  was  impossible  to  kill  them 
when  in  that  position,  and  stepping  upon  the  summit,  I 
pursued  them  over  the  high  arid  table-land.  It  was  ex- 
tremely rugged  and  broken;  a  great  sandy  ravine  was 
channelled  through  it,  with  smaller  ravines  entering  on 
each  side,  like  tributary  streams.  The  buffalo  scattered, 
and  I  soon  lost  sight  of  most  of  them  as  they  scuttled 
away  through  the  sandy  chasms ;  a  bull  and  a  cow  alone 
kept  in  view.  For  a  while  they  ran  along  the  edge  of  the 
great  ravine,  appearing  and  disappearing  as  they  dived 
into  some  chasm  and  again  emerged  from  it.  At  last 
they  stretched  out  upon  the  broad  prairie,  a  plain  nearly 
flat  and  almost  devoid  of  verdure,  for  every  short  grass- 
blade  was  dried  and  shrivelled  by  the  glaring  sun.  Now 
and  then  the  old  bull  would  face  towards  me ;  whenever 
he  did  so  I  fell  to  the  ground  and  lay  motionless.  In 


DOWN   THE   ARKANSAS.  361 

this  manner  I  chased  them  for  about  two  miles,  until  at 
length  I  heard  in  front  a  deep  hoarse  bellowing.  A 
moment  after,  a  band  of  about  a  hundred  bulls,  before 
hidden  by  a  slight  swell  of  the  plain,  came  at  once  into 
view.  The  fugitives  ran  towards  them.  Instead  of  min- 
gling with  the  band,  as  I  expected,  they  passed  directly 
through,  and  continued  their  flight.  At  this  I  gave  up 
the  chase,  crawled  to  within  gun-shot  of  the  bulls,  and 
sat  down  on  the  ground  to  watch  them.  My  presence  did 
not  disturb  them  in  the  least.  They  were  not  feeding, 
for  there  was  nothing  to  eat ;  but  they  seemed  to  have 
chosen  the  parched  and  scorching  desert  as  their  play- 
ground. Some  were  rolling  on  the  ground  amid  a 
cloud  of  dust;  others,  with  a  hoarse  rumbling  bellow, 
were  butting  their  large  heads  together,  while  many 
stood  motionless,  as  if  quite  inanimate.  Except  their 
monstrous  growth  of  tangled  grizzly  mane,  they  had 
no  hair;  for  their  old  coat  had  fallen  off  in  the  spring, 
and  their  new  one  had  not  as  yet  appeared.  Sometimes 
an  old  bull  would  step  forward,  and  gaze  at  me  with  a 
grim  and  stupid  countenance ;  then  he  would  turn  and 
butt  his  next  neighbor;  then  he  would  lie  down  and  roll 
over  in  the  dust,  kicking  his  hoofs  in  the  air.  When 
satisfied  with  this  amusement,  he  would  jerk  his  head 
and  shoulders  upward,  and  resting  on  his  forelegs,  stare 
at  me  in  this  position,  half  blinded  by  his  mane,  and  his 
face  covered  with  dirt;  then  up  he  would  spring  upon  all 
fours,  shake  his  dusty  sides,  turn  half  round,  and  stand 
with  his  beard  touching  the  ground,  in  an  attitude  of  pro- 
found abstraction,  as  if  reflecting  on  his  puerile  conduct. 
"  You  are  too  ugly  to  live, "  thought  I ;  and  aiming  at  the 
ugliest,  I  shot  three  of  them  in  succession.  The  rest 
were  not  at  all  discomposed  at  this ;  they  kept  on  bellow- 
ing, butting,  and  rolling  on  the  ground  as  before.  Henry 


362  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

Chatillon  always  cautioned  us  to  keep  perfectly  quiet  in 
the  presence  of  a  wounded  buffalo,  for  any  movement  is 
apt  to  excite  him  to  make  an  attack ;  so  I  sat  still  upon 
the  ground,  loading  and  firing  with  as  little  motion  as 
possible.  While  I  was  thus  employed,  a  spectator  made 
his  appearance:  a  little  antelope  came  running  up  to 
within  fifty  yards ;  and  there  it  stood,  its  slender  neck 
arched,  its  small  horns  thrown  back,  and  its  large  dark 
eyes  gazing  on  me  with  a  look  of  eager  curiosity.  By 
the  side  of -the  shaggy  and  brutish  monsters  before  me,  it 
seemed  like  some  lovely  young  girl  in  a  den  of  robbers  or 
a  nest  of  bearded  pirates.  The  buffalo  looked  uglier  than 
ever.  "  Here  goes  for  another  of  you, "  thought  I,  feeling 
in  my  pouch  for  a  percussion-cap.  Not  a  percussion-cap 
was  there.  My  good  rifle  was  useless  as  an  old  iron  bar. 
One  of  the  wounded  bulls  had  not  yet  fallen,  and  I  waited 
for  some  time,  hoping  every  moment  that  his  strength 
would  fail  him.  He  still  stood  firm,  looking  grimly  at 
me,  and  disregarding  Henry's  advice,  I  rose  and  walked 
away.  Many  of  the  bulls  turned  and  looked  at  me,  but 
the  wounded  brute  made  no  attack.  I  soon  came  upon  a 
deep  ravine  which  would  give  me  shelter  in  case  of  emer- 
gency;  so  I  turned  round  and  threw  a  stone  at  the  bulls. 
They  received  it  with  the  utmost  indifference.  Feeling 
myself  insulted  at  their  refusal  to  be  frightened,  I  swung 
my  hat,  shouted,  and  made  a  show  of  running  towards 
them;  at  this  they  crowded  together  and  galloped  off, 
leaving  their  dead  and  wounded  upon  the  field.  As  I 
moved  towards  the  camp  I  saw  the  last  survivor  totter 
and  fall  dead.  My  speed  in  returning  was  wonderfully 
quickened  by  the  reflection  that  the  Pawnees  were  abroad, 
and  that  I  was  defenceless  in  case  of  meeting  with  an 
enemy.  I  saw  no  living  thing,  however,  except  two  or 
three  squalid  old  bulls  scrambling  among  the  sand-hills 


DOWN   THE   ARKANSAS.  363 

that  flanked  the  great  ravine.  When  I  reached  camp  the 
party  were  nearly  ready  for  the  afternoon  move. 

We  encamped  that  evening  at  a  short  distance  from 
the  river  bank.  About  midnight,  as  we  all  lay  asleep  on 
the  ground,  the  man  nearest  to  me,  gently  reaching  out 
his  hand,  touched  my  shoulder,  and  cautioned  me  at  the 
same  time  not  to  move.  It  was  bright  starlight.  Open- 
ing my  eyes  and  slightly  turning,  I  saw  a  large  white 
wolf  moving  stealthily  around  the  embers  of  our  fire, 
with  his  nose  close  to  the  ground.  Disengaging  my  hand 
from  the  blanket,  I  drew  the  cover  from  my  rifle,  which 
lay  close  at  my  side ;  the  motion  alarmed  the  wolf,  and 
with  long  leaps  he  bounded  out  of  the  camp.  Jumping 
up,  I  fired  after  him,  when  he  was  about  thirty  yards  dis- 
tant ;  the  melancholy  hum  of  the  bullet  sounded  far  away 
through  the  night.  At  the  sharp  report,  so  suddenly 
breaking  upon  the  stillness,  all  the  men  sprang  up. 

"You've  killed  him,"  said  one  of  them. 

"  No,  I  haven't,"  said  I;  "  there  he  goes,  running  along 
the  river." 

"Then  there's  two  of  them.  Don't  you  see  that  one 
lying  out  yonder?" 

We  went  out  to  it,  and  instead  of  a  dead  white  wolf, 
found  the  bleached  skull  of  a  buffalo.  I  had  missed  my 
mark,  and  what  was  worse  had  grossly  violated  a  stand-- 
ing law  of  the  prairie.  When  in  a  dangerous  part  of  the 
country,  it  is  considered  highly  imprudent  to  fire  a  gun 
after  encamping,  lest  the  report  should  reach  the  ears  of 
Indians. 

The  horses  were  saddled  in  the  morning,  and  the  last 
man  had  lighted  his  pipe  at  the  dying  ashes  of  the  fire. 
The  beauty  of  the  day  enlivened  us  all.  Even  Ellis  felt 
its  influence,  and  occasionally  made  a  remark  as  we  rode 
along,  and  Jim  Gurney  told  endless  stories  of  his  cruis* 


364  THE    OREGON    TRAIL. 

ings  in  the  United  States  service.  The  buffalo  were 
abundant,  and  at  length  a  large  band  of  them  went  run- 
ning up  the  hills  on  the  left. 

"  Too  good  a  chance  to  lose, ' '  said  Shaw.  We  lashed  our 
horses  and  galloped  after  them.  Shaw  killed  one  with  each 
barrel  of  his  gun.  I  separated  another  from  the  herd 
and  shot  him.  The  small  bullet  of  the  rifle-pistol  strik- 
ing too  far  back  did  not  immediately  take  effect,  and  the 
bull  ran  on  with  unabated  speed.  Again  and  again  I 
snapped  the  remaining  pistol  at  him.  I  primed  it  afresh 
three  or  four  times,  and  each  time  it  missed  fire,  for  the 
touch-hole  was  clogged  up.  Returning  it  to  the  holster, 
I  began  to  load  the  empty  pistol,  still  galloping  by  the 
side  of  the  bull.  By  this  time  he  had  grown  desperate. 
The  foam  flew  from  his  jaws  and  his  tongue  lolled  out. 
Before  the  pistol  was  loaded  he  sprang  upon  me,  and 
followed  up  his  attack  with  a  furious  rush.  The  only 
alternative  was  to  run  away  or  be  killed.  I  took  to  flight, 
and  the  bull,  bristling  with  fury,  pursued  me  closely. 
The  pistol  was  soon  ready,  and  then  looking  back  I  saw 
his  head  five  or  six  yards  behind  my  horse's  tail.  To 
fire  at  it  would  be  useless,  for  a  bullet  flattens  against  the 
adamantine  skull  of  a  buffalo  bull.  Inclining  my  body  to 
the  left,  I  turned  my  horse  in  that  direction  as  sharply 
as  his  speed  would  permit.  The  bull  rushing  blindly  on 
with  great  force  and  weight  did  not  turn  so  quickly.  As 
I  looked  back,  his  neck  and  shoulder  were  exposed  to 
view ;  and,  turning  in  the  saddle,  I  shot  a  bullet  through 
them  obliquely  into  his  vitals.  He  gave  over  the  chase 
and  soon  fell  to  the  ground.  An  English  tourist  repre- 
sents a  situation  like  this  as  one  of  imminent  danger ; 
this  is  a  mistake ;  the  bull  never  pursues  long,  and  the 
horse  must  be  wretched  indeed  that  cannot  keep  out  of 
his  way  for  two  or  three  minutes. 


DOWN   THE   ARKANSAS.  365 

We  were  now  come  to  a  part  of  the  country  where  we 
were  bound  in  common  prudence  to  use  every  possible 
precaution.  We  mounted  guard  at  night,  each  man 
standing  in  his  turn;  and  no  one  ever  slept  without 
drawing  his  rifle  close  to  his  side  or  folding  it  with  him 
in  his  blanket.  One  morning  our  vigilance  was  stimu- 
lated by  finding  traces  of  a  large  Camanche  encampment. 
Fortunately  for  us,  however,  it  had  been  abandoned 
nearly  a  week.  On  the  next  evening  we  found  the 
ashes  of  a  recent  fire,  which  gave  us  at  the  time  some 
uneasiness.  At  length  we  reached  the  Caches,  a  place 
of  dangerous  repute;  and  it  had  a  most  dangerous 
appearance,  consisting  of  sand-hills  everywhere  broken 
by  ravines  and  deep  chasms.  Here  we  found  the  grave 
of  Swan,  killed  at  this  place,  probably  by  the  Pawnees, 
two  or  three  weeks  before.  His  remains,  more  than  once 
violated  by  the  Indians  and  the  wolves,  were  suffered  at 
length  to  remain  undisturbed  in  their  wild  burial-place. 

For  several  days  we  met  detached  companies  of  Price's 
regiment.  Horses  would  often  break  loose  at  night  from 
their  camps.  One  afternoon  we  picked  up  three  of  these 
stragglers  quietly  grazing  along  the  river.  After  we  came 
to  camp  that  evening,  Jim  Gurney  brought  news  that 
more  of  them  were  in  sight.  It  was  nearly  dark,  and  a 
cold,  drizzling  rain  had  set  in ;  but  we  all  turned  out,  and 
after  an  hour's  chase  nine  horses  were  caught  and  brought 
in.  One  of  them  was  equipped  with  saddle  and  bridle ; 
pistols  were  hanging  at  the  pommel  of  the  saddle,  a  car- 
bine was  slung  at  its  side,  and  a  blanket  rolled  up  behind 
it.  In  the  morning,  as  we  resumed  our  journey,  our  cav- 
alcade presented  a  much  more  imposing  appearance  than 
ever  before.  We  kept  on  till  the  afternoon,  when,  far 
behind,  three  horsemen  appeared  on  the  horizon.  Com- 
ing on  at  a  hand-gallop,  they  soon  overtook  us,  and 


366  THE   OREGON   TKAIL. 

claimed  all  the  horses  as  belonging  to  themselves  and 
others  of  their  company.  They  were  of  course  given  up, 
very  much  to  the  mortification  of  Ellis  and  Jim  Gurney. 
Our  own  horses  now  showed  signs  of  fatigue,  and  we 
resolved  to  give  them  half  a  day's  rest.  We  stopped  at 
noon  at  a  grassy  spot  by  the  river.  After  dinner  Shaw 
and  Henry  went  out  to  hunt ;  and  while  the  men  lounged 
about  the  camp,  I  lay  down  to  read  in  the  shadow  of  the 
cart.  Looking  up,  I  saw  a  bull  grazing  alone  on  the 
prairie  more  than  a  mile  distant,  and  taking  my  rifle  I 
walked  towards  him.  As  I  came  near,  I  crawled  upon 
the  ground  until  I  approached  to  within  a  hundred  yards ; 
here  I  sat  down  upon  the  grass  and  waited  till  he  should 
turn  himself  into  a  proper  position  to  receive  his  death- 
wound.  He  was  a  grim  old  veteran.  His  loves  and  his 
battles  were  over  for  that  season,  and  now,  gaunt  and 
war-worn,  he  had  withdrawn  from  the  herd  to  graze  by 
himself  and  recruit  his  exhausted  strength.  He  was 
miserably  emaciated;  his  mane  was  all  in  tatters;  his 
hide  was  bare  and  rough  as  an  elephant's,  and  covered 
with  dried  patches  of  the  mud  in  which  he  had  been  wal- 
lowing. He  showed  all  his  ribs  whenever  he  moved.  He 
looked  like  some  grizzly  old  ruffian  grown  gray  in  blood 
and  violence,  and  scowling  on  all  the  world  from  his  mis- 
anthropic seclusion.  The  old  savage  looked  up  when  I 
first  approached,  and  gave  me  a  fierce  stare;  then  he  fell 
to  grazing  again  with  an  air  of  contemptuous  indifference. 
The  moment  after,  as  if  suddenly  recollecting  himself,  he 
threw  up  his  head,  faced  quickly  about,  and  to  my  amaze- 
ment came  at  a  rapid  trot  directly  towards  me.  I  was 
strongly  impelled  to  get  up  and  run,  but  this  would  have 
been  very  dangerous.  Sitting  quite  still,  I  aimed,  as  he 
came  on,  at  the  thin  part  of  the  skull  above  the  nose, 
hoping  that  the  shot  might  have  the  effect  of  turning  him. 


DOWN   THE   ARKANSAS.  367 

After  he  had  passed  over  about  three-quarters  of  the  dis- 
tance between  us,  I  was  on  the  point  of  firing,  when,  to 
my  great  satisfaction,  he  stopped  short.  I  had  full  op- 
portunity of  studying  his  countenance ;  his  whole  front 
was  covered  with  a  huge  mass  of  coarse  matted  hair, 
which  hung  so  low  that  nothing  but  his  two  forefeet  were 
visible  beneath  it;  his  short  thick  horns  were  blunted 
and  split  to  the  very  roots  in  his  various  battles,  and 
across  his  nose  and  forehead  were  two  or  three  large 
white  scars,  which  gave  him  a  grim,  and  at  the  same 
time  a  whimsical  appearance.  It  seemed  to  me  that  he 
stood  there  motionless  for  a  full  quarter  of  an  hour  star- 
ing at  me  through  the  tangled  locks  of  his  mane.  For 
my  part,  I  remained  as  quiet  as  he,  and  looked  quite  as 
hard.  I  felt  greatly  inclined  to  come  to  terms  with  him. 
"  My  friend,"  thought  I,  "  if  you'll  let  me  off,  I'll  let  you 
off. "  At  length  he  seemed  to  have  abandoned  any  hostile 
design.  Very  slowly  and  deliberately  he  began  to  turn 
about;  little  by  little  his  side  came  into  view,  all  be- 
plastered  with  mud.  It  was  a  tempting  sight.  I  forgot 
my  prudent  intentions,  and  fired  my  rifle ;  a  pistol  would 
have  served  at  that  distance.  The  old  bull  spun  round 
like  a  top,  and  galloped  away  over  the  prairie.  He  ran 
some  distance,  and  even  ascended  a  considerable  hill,  be- 
fore he  lay  down  and  died.  After  shooting  another  bull 
among  the  hills,  I  went  back  to  camp. 

At  noon,  on  the  fourteenth  of  September,  a  very  large 
Santa  Fe'  caravan  came  up.  The  plain  was  covered  with 
the  long  files  of  their  white -topped  wagons,  the  close  black 
carriages  in  which  the  traders  travel  and  sleep,  large 
droves  of  mules  and  horses,  and  men  on  horseback  and  on 
foot.  They  all  stopped  on  the  meadow  near  us.  Our  di- 
minutive cart  and  handful  of  men  made  but  an  insignificant 
figure  by  the  side  of  their  wide  and  bustling  camp.  Tete 


368  THE    OKEGON    TRAIL. 

Rouge  went  to  visit  them,  and  soon  came  back  with  half 
a  dozen  biscuit  in  one  hand,  and  a  bottle  of  brandy  in 
the  other.  I  inquired  where  he  got  them.  "  Oh,"  said 
Tete  Rouge,  "  I  know  some  of  the  traders.  Dr.  Dobbs  is 
there  besides. "  I  asked  who  Dr.  Dobbs  might  be.  "  One 
of  our  St.  Louis  doctors,"  replied  Tete  Rouge.  For  two 
days  past  I  had  been  severely  attacked  by  the  same  dis^ 
order  which  had  so  greatly  reduced  my  strength  when  at 
the  mountains ;  at  this  time  I  was  suffering  not  a  little 
from  pain  and  weakness.  Tete  Rouge,  in  answer  to  my 
inquiries,  declared  that  Dr.  Dobbs  was  a  physician  of  the 
first  standing.  Without  at  all  believing  him,  I  resolved 
to  consult  this  eminent  practitioner.  Walking  over  to 
the  camp,  I  found  him  lying  sound  asleep  under  one  of 
the  wagons.  He  offered  in  his  own  person  but  indifferent 
evidence  of  his  skill,  for  it  was  five  months  since  I  had 
seen  so  cadaverous  a  face.  His  hat  had  fallen  off,  and 
his  yellow  hair  was  all  in  disorder ;  one  of  his  arms  sup- 
plied the  place  of  a  pillow;  his  trousers  were  wrinkled 
half  way  up  to  his  knees,  and  he  was  covered  with  little 
bits  of  grass  and  straw  upon  which  he  had  rolled  in  his 
uneasy  slumber.  A  Mexican  stood  near,  and  I  made  him 
a  sign  to  touch  the  doctor.  Up  sprang  the  learned  Dobbs, 
and  sitting  upright  rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked  about  him 
in  bewilderment.  I  regretted  the  necessity  of  disturbing 
him,  and  said  I  had  come  to  ask  professional  advice. 

"Your  system,  sir,  is  in  a  disordered  state,"  said  he, 
solemnly,  after  a  short  examination. 

I  inquired  what  might  be  the  particular  species  of  dis- 
order. 

"Evidently  a  morbid  action  of  the  liver,"  replied  the 
medical  man;  "I  will  give  you  a  prescription." 

Repairing  to  the  back  of  one  of  the  covered  wagons,  he 
scrambled  in ;  for  a  moment  I  could  see  nothing  of  him 


DOWN   THE   ARKANSAS.  369 

but  his  boots.  At  length  he  produced  a  box  which  he  had 
extracted  from  some  dark  recess  within,  and,  opening  it, 
presented  me  with  a  folded  paper.  "  What  is  it  ?  "  said  I. 
"Calomel,"  said  the  doctor. 

Under  the  circumstances  I  would  have  taken  almost 
any  thing.  There  was  not  enough  to  do  me  much  harm, 
and  it  might  possibly  do  good ;  so  at  camp  that  night  I 
took  the  poison  instead  of  supper. 

That  camp  is  worthy  of  notice.  The  traders  warned 
us  not  to  follow  the  main  trail  along  the  river,  "unless,** 
as  one  of  them  observed,  "you  want  to  have  your  throats 
cut!"  The  river  at  this  place  makes  a  bend;  and  a 
smaller  trail,  known  as  "the  Ridge-path,"  leads  directly 
across  the  prairie  from  point  to  point,  a  distance  of  sixty 
or  seventy  miles. 

We  followed  this  trail,  and  after  travelling  seven  or 
eight  miles  came  to  a  small  stream,  where  we  encamped. 
Our  position  was  not  chosen  with  much  forethought  or 
military  skill.  The  water  was  in  a  deep  hollow,  with 
steep,  high  banks ;  on  the  grassy  bottom  of  this  hollow  we 
picketed  our  horses,  while  we  ourselves  encamped  upon  the 
barren  prairie  just  above.  The  opportunity  was  admirable 
either  for  driving  off  our  horses  or  attacking  us.  After 
dark,  as  T§te  Rouge  was  sitting  at  supper,  we  observed  him 
pointing  with  a  face  of  speechless  horror  over  the  shoulder 
of  Henry,  who  was  opposite  to  him.  Aloof  amid  the 
darkness  appeared  a  gigantic  black  apparition,  solemnly 
swaying  to  and  fro  as  it  advanced  steadily  upon  us. 
Henry,  half  vexed  and  half  amused,  jumped  up,  spread 
out  his  arms,  and  shouted.  The  invader  was  an  old 
buffalo-bull,  who,  with  characteristic  stupidity,  was 
walking  directly  into  camp.  It  cost  some  shouting  and 
swinging  of  hats  before  we  could  bring  him  first  to  a 
halt  and  then  to  a  rapid  retreat. 

24 


370  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

The  moon  was  full  and  bright ;  but  as  the  black  clouds 
chased  rapidly  over  it,  we  were  at  one  moment  in  light 
and  at  the  next  in  darkness.  As  the  evening  advanced, 
a  thunder-storm  came  up  and  struck  us  with  such  violence 
that  the  tent  would  have  been  blown  over  if  we  had  not 
interposed  the  cart  to  break  the  force  of  the  wind.  At 
length  it  subsided  to  a  steady  rain.  I  lay  awake  through 
nearly  the  whole  night,  listening  to  its  dull  patter  upon 
the  canvas  above.  The  moisture,  which  filled  the  tent 
and  trickled  from  every  thing  in  it,  did  not  add  to  the 
comfort  of  the  situation.  About  twelve  o'clock  Shaw 
went  out  to  stand  guard  amid  the  rain  and  pitchy  dark- 
ness. Munroe  was  also  on  the  alert.  When  about  two 
hours  had  passed,  Shaw  came  silently  in,  and,  touching 
Henry,  called  to  him  in  a  low  quick  voice  to  come  out. 
"  What  is  it  ?"  I  asked.  "  Indians,  I  believe, "  whispered 
Shaw;  "but  lie  still;  I'll  call  you  if  there's  a  fight." 

He  and  Henry  went  out  together.  I  took  the  cover 
from  my  rifle,  put  a  fresh  percussion-cap  upon  it,  and 
then,  being  in  much  pain,  lay  down  again.  In  about  five 
minutes  Shaw  returned.  "All  right,"  he  said,  as  he  lay 
down  to  sleep.  Henry  was  now  standing  guard  in  his 
place.  He  told  me  in  the  morning  the  particulars  of  the 
alarm.  Munroe 's  watchful  eye  had  discovered  some  dark 
objects  down  in  the  hollow,  among  the  horses,  like  men 
creeping  on  all-fours.  Lying  flat  on  their  faces,  he  and 
Shaw  crawled  to  the  edge  of  the  bank,  and  were  soon  con- 
vinced that  these  dark  objects  were  Indians.  Shaw  silently 
withdrew  to  call  Henry,  and  they  all  lay  watching  in  the 
same  position.  Henry's  eye  is  one  of  the  best  on  the 
prairie.  He  detected  after  a  while  the  true  nature  of 
the  intruders;  they  were  nothing  but  wolves  creeping 
among  the  horses. 

It  is  very  singular  that,  when  picketed  near  a  camp, 


DOWN   THE   ARKANSAS.  371 

horses  seldom  show  any  fear  of  such  an  intrusion.  The 
wolves  appear  to  have  no  other  object  than  that  of  gnaw- 
ing the  trail-ropes  of  raw  hide  by  which  the  animals  are 
secured.  Several  times  in  the  course  of  the  journey  my 
horse's  trail-rope  was  bitten  in  two  by  these  nocturnal 
visitors. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  SETTLEMENTS. 

*T*HE  next  day  was  extremely  hot,  and  we  rode  from 
-•-  morning  till  night  without  seeing  a  tree,  a  bush,  01 
a  drop  of  water.  Our  horses  and  mules  suffered  much 
more  than  we,  but  as  sunset  approached,  they  pricked  up 
their  ears  and  mended  their  pace.  Water  was  not  far 
off.  When  we  came  to  the  descent  of  the  broad  shallow 
valley  where  it  lay,  an  unlooked-for  sight  awaited  us. 
The  stream  glistened  at  the  bottom,  and  along  its  banks 
were  pitched  a  multitude  of  tents,  while  hundreds  of  cat- 
tle were  feeding  over  the  meadows.  Bodies  of  troops, 
both  horse  and  foot,  and  long  trains  of  wagons,  with  men, 
women,' and  children,  were  moving  over  the  opposite  ridge 
and  descending  the  broad  declivity  before  us.  These  were 
the  Mormon  battalion  in  the  service  of  government,  to- 
gether with  a  considerable  number  of  Missouri  Volun- 
teers. The  Mormons  were  to  be  paid  off  in  California, 
and  they  were  allowed  to  bring  with  them  their  families 
and  property.  There  was  somethng  very  striking  in  the 
half-military,  half-patriarchal  appearance  of  these  armed 
fanatics,  thus  on  their  way  with  their  wives  and  children, 
to  found,  it  might  be,  a  Mormon  empire  in  California. 
We  were  much  more  astonished  than  pleased  at  the  sight 
before  us.  In  order  to  find  an  unoccupied  camping- 
ground,  we  were  obliged  to  pass  a  quarter  of  a  mile  up 
the  stream,  and  here  we  were  soon  beset  by  a  swarm  of 


THE    SETTLEMENTS.  373 

Mormons  and  Missourians.  The  United  States  officer  in 
command  of  the  whole  came  also  to  visit  us,  and  remained 
some  time  at  our  camp. ' 

In  the  morning  the  country  was  covered  with  mist. 
We  were  always  early  risers,  but  before  we  were  ready, 
the  voices  of  men  driving  in  the  cattle  sounded  all  around 
us.  As  we  passed  above  their  camp,  we  saw  through  the 
obscurity  that  the  tents  were  falling,  and  the  ranks  rap- 
idly forming;  and,  mingled  with  the  cries  of  women  and 
children,  the  rolling  of  the  Mormon  drums  and  the  clear 
blast  of  their  trumpets  sounded  through  the  mist. 

From  that  time  to  the  journey's  end,  we  met  almost 
every  day  long  trains  of  government  wagons,  laden  with 
stores  for  the  troops,  crawling  at  a  snail's  pace  towards 
Santa  Pe". 

Te~te  Rouge  had  a  mortal  antipathy  to  danger,  but  one 
evening  he  achieved  an  adventure  more  perilous  than  had 
befallen  any  man  in  the  party.  The  day  after  we  left  the 
Ridge -path  we  encamped  close  to  the  river,  and  at  sunset 
saw  a  train  of  wagons  encamping  on  the  trail,  about  three 
miles  off.  Though  we  saw  them  distinctly,  our  little  cart, 
as  it  afterward  proved,  entirely  escaped  their  notice.  For 
some  days  Tete  Rouge  had  been  longing  for  a  dram  of 
whiskey.  So,  resolving  to  improve  the  present  oppor- 
tunity, he  mounted  his  horse  "  James,"  which  he  had  ob- 
tained from  the  volunteers  in  exchange  for  his  mule,  slung 
his  canteen  over  his  shoulder,  and  set  out  in  search  of  his 
favorite  liquor.  S  ome  hours  passed  without  his  returning. 
We  thought  that  he  was  lost,  or  perhaps  that  some  stray 
Indian  had  snapped  him  up.  While  the  rest  fell  asleep  I 
remained  on  guard.  Late  at  night  a  tremulous  voice 
saluted  me  from  the  darkness,  and  Tete  Rouge  and  James 
soon  became  visible,  advancing  towards  the  camp.  Tete 
Rouge  was  in  much  agitation  and  big  with  important  tid- 


374  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

ings.     Sitting  down  on  the  shaft  of  the  cart,  he  told  the 
following  story :  — 

When  he  left  the  camp  he  had  no  idea,  he  said,  how 
late  it  was.  By  the  time  he  approached  the  wagoners  it 
was  perfectly  dark ;  and  as  he  saw  them  all  sitting  around 
their  fires  within  the  circle  of  wagons,  their  guns  laid  by 
their  sides,  he  thought  he  might  as  well  give  warning  of 
his  approach,  in  order  to  prevent  a  disagreeable  mistake. 
Raising  his  voice  to  the  highest  pitch,  he  screamed  out  in 
prolonged  accents,  "  camp  ahoy  !  "  This  eccentric  saluta- 
tion produced  any  thing  but  the  desired  effect.  Hearing 
such  hideous  sounds  proceeding  from  the  outer  darkness, 
the  wagoners  thought  that  the  whole  Pawnee  nation  were 
upon  them.  Up  they  sprang,  wild  with  terror.  Each 
man  snatched  his  gun ;  some  stood  behind  the  wagons ; 
some  threw  themselves  flat  on  the  ground,  and  in  an 
instant  twenty  cocked  muskets  were  levelled  full  at  the 
horrified  Tete  Rouge,  who  just  then  began  to  be  visible 
through  the  gloom. 

"Thar  they  come,"  cried  the  master  wagoner;  "fire, 
fire,  shoot  that  feller." 

"No,  no!"  screamed  Tete  Rouge,  in  an  ecstasy  of 
fright;  "don't  fire,  don't;  I'm  a  friend,  I'm  an  Ameri- 
can citizen ! " 

"You're  a  friend,  be  you,"  cried  a  gruff  voice  from 
the  wagons;  "then  what  are  you  yellin'  out  thar  for 
like  a  wild  Injun.  Come  along  up  here  if  you're  a  man. " 

"Keep  your  guns  p'inted  at  him,"  added  the  master 
wagoner,  "maybe  he's  a  decoy,  like." 

Tete  Rouge  in  utter  bewilderment  made  his  approach, 
with  the  gaping  muzzles  of  the  muskets  still  before  his 
eyes.  He  succeeded  at  last  in  explaining  his  true  charac- 
ter, and  the  Missourians  admitted  him  into  camp.  He  got 
no  whiskey;  but  as  he  represented  himself  as  a  great 


THE    SETTLEMENTS.  875 

invalid,  and  suffering  much  from  coarse  fare,  they  made 
up  a  contribution  for  him  of  rice,  biscuit,  and  sugar  from 
their  own  rations. 

In  the  morning  at  breakfast,  Tete  Rouge  once  more 
related  this  story.  We  hardly  knew  how  much  of  it  to 
believe,  though  after  some  cross-questioning  we  failed 
to  discover  any  flaw  in  the  narrative.  Passing  by  the 
wagoner's  camp,  they  confirmed  T§te  Rouge's  account 
in  every  particular.  Bancroft  Library 

"I  wouldn't  have  been  in  that  feller's  place,"  said  one 
of  them,  "for  the  biggest  heap  of  money  in  Missouri." 

A  day  or  two  after,  we  had  an  adventure  of  another 
sort  with  a  party  of  wagoners.  Henry  and  I  rode  for- 
ward to  hunt.  After  that  day  there  was  no  probability 
that  we  should  meet  with  buffalo,  and  we  were  anxious 
to  kill  one,  for  a  supply  of  fresh  meat.  They  were  so 
wild  that  we  hunted  all  the  morning  in  vain,  but  at  noon 
as  we  approached  Cow  Creek  we  saw  a  large  band  feeding 
near  its  margin.  Cow  Creek  is  densely  lined  with  trees 
which  intercept  the  view  beyond,  and  it  runs,  as  we  after- 
wards found,  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  trench.  We  ap- 
proached by  riding  along  the  bottom  of  a  ravine.  When 
we  were  near  enough,  I  held  the  horses  while  Henry  crept 
towards  the  buffalo.  I  saw  him  take  his  seat  within 
shooting  distance,  prepare  his  rifle,  and  look  about  to 
select  his  victim.  The  death  of  a  fat  cow  seemed  certain, 
when  suddenly  a  great  smoke  and  a  rattling  volley  of 
musketry  rose  from  the  bed  of  the  creek.  A  score  of  long- 
legged  Missourians  leaped  out  from  among  the  trees  and 
ran  after  the  buffalo,  who  one  and  all  took  to  their  heels 
and  vanished.  These  fellows  had  crawled  up  the  bed  of 
the  creek  to  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  game.  Never 
was  there  a  fairer  chance  for  a  shot.  They  were  good 
marksmen;  all  cracked  away  at  once  and  yet  not  a  buf- 


376  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

falo  fell.  In  fact  the  animal  is  so  tenacious  of  life  that  it 
requires  no  little  knowledge  of  anatomy  to  kill  it,  and  it 
is  very  seldom  that  a  novice  succeeds  in  his  first  attempt 
at  approaching.  The  balked  Missourians  were  excessively 
mortified,  especially  when  Henry  told  them  that  if  they 
had  kept  quiet  he  would  have  killed  meat  enough  in  ten 
minutes  to  feed  their  whole  party.  Our  friends,  who  were 
at  no  great  distance,  hearing  the  fusillade,  thought  that 
the  Indians  had  fired  the  volley  for  our  benefit.  Shaw 
came  galloping  on  to  reconnoitre  and  learn  if  we  were 
yet  among  the  living. 

At  Cow  Creek  we  found  the  welcome  novelty  of  ripe 
grapes  and  plums,  which  grew  there  in  abundance.  At 
the  Little  Arkansas,  not  much  farther  on,  we  saw  the  last 
buffalo,  a  miserable  old  bull,  roaming  over  the  prairie 
melancholy  and  alone. 

From  this  time  forward  the  character  of  the  country 
was  changing  every  day.  We  had  left  behind  us  the 
great  arid  deserts,  meagerly  covered  by  the  tufted  buffalo- 
grass,  with  its  pale  green  hue,  and  its  short  shrivelled 
blades.  The  plains  before  us  were  carpeted  with  rich 
herbage  sprinkled  with  flowers.  In  place  of  buffalo  we 
found  plenty  of  prairie-hens,  and  bagged  them  by  dozens 
without  leaving  the  trail.  In  three  or  four  days  we  saw 
before  us  the  forests  and  meadows  of  Council  Grove.  It 
seemed  like  a  new  sensation  as  we  rode  beneath  the  re- 
sounding arches  of  these  noble  woods,  —  ash,  oak,  elm, 
maple,  and  hickory,  festooned  with  enormous  grape-vines, 
purple  with  fruit.  The  shouts  of  our  scattered  party,  and 
now  and  then  the  report  of  a  rifle,  rang  through  the 
breathless  stillness  of  the  forest.  We  rode  out  again  with 
regret  into  the  broad  light  of  the  open  prairie.  Little 
more  than  a  hundred  miles  now  separated  us  from  the 
frontier  settlements.  The  whole  intervening  country  was 


THE   SETTLEMENTS.  377 

a  succession  of  green  prairies,  rising  in  broad  swells  and 
relieved  by  trees  clustering  like  an  oasis  around  some 
spring,  or  following  the  course  of  a  stream  along  some 
fertile  hollow.  These  are  the  prairies  of  the  poet  and 
the  novelist.  We  had  left  danger  behind  us.  Nothing 
was  to  be  feared  from  the  Indians  of  this  region,  the  Sacs 
and  Foxes,  Kanzas  and  Osages.  We  had  met  with  rare 
good  fortune.  Although  for  five  months  we  had  been 
travelling  with  an  insufficient  force  through  a  country 
where  we  were  at  any  moment  liable  to  depredation,  not 
a  single  animal  had  been  stolen  from  us,  and  our  only 
loss  had  been  one  old  mule  bitten  to  death  by  a  rattle- 
snake. Three  weeks  after  we  reached  the  frontier,  the 
Pawnees  and  the  Camanches  began  a  regular  series  of 
hostilities  on  the  Arkansas  trail,  killing  men  and  driving 
off  horses.  They  attacked,  without  exception,  e very- 
party,  large  or  small,  that  passed  during  the  next  six 
months. 

Diamond  Spring,  Rock  Creek,  Elder  Grove,  and  other 
'camping  places  besides,  were  passed  in  quick  succession. 
At  Rock  Creek  we  found  a  train  of  government  provision- 
wagons  under  the  charge  of  an  emaciated  old  man  in  his 
seventy-first  year.  Some  restless  American  devil  had 
driven  him  into  the  wilderness  at  a  time  of  life  when 
he  should  have  been  seated  at  his  fireside  with  his 
grandchildren  on  his  knees.  I  am  convinced  that  he 
never  returned;  he  was  complaining  that  night  of  a 
disease,  the  wasting  effects  of  which  upon  a  younger 
and  stronger  man,  I  myself  had  proved  from  severe  ex- 
perience. Long  before  this  no  doubt  the  wolves  have 
howled  their  moonlight  carnival  over  the  old  man's 
attenuated  remains. 

Not  long  after  we  came  to  a  small  trail  leading  to  Fort 
Leavenworth,  distant  but  one  day's  journey.  Tete  Rouge 


378  THE    OREGON   TRAIL. 

here  took  leave  of  us.  He  was  anxious  to  go  to  the  fort 
in  order  to  receive  payment  for  his  valuable  military  ser- 
vices. So  he  and  his  horse  James,  after  an  affectionate 
farewell,  set  out  together,  with  what  provisions  they  could 
conveniently  carry,  including  a  large  quantity  of  brown 
sugar.  On  a  cheerless  rainy  evening  we  came  to  our  last 
'camping  ground. 

In  the  morning  we  mounted  once  more.  In  spite  of 
the  dreary  rain  of  yesterday,  there  never  was  a  brighter 
autumnal  morning  than  that  on  which  we  returned  to  the 
settlements.  We  were  passing  through  the  country  of 
the  half-civilized  Shawanoes.  It  was  a  beautiful  alterna- 
tion of  fertile  plains  and  groves  just  tinged  with  the  hues 
of  autumn,  while  close  beneath  them  nestled  the  log- 
houses  of  the  Indian  farmers.  Every  field  and  meadow 
bespoke  the  exuberant  fertility  of  the  soil.  The  maize 
stood  rustling  in  the  wind,  ripe  and  dry,  its  shining  yel- 
low ears  thrust  out  between  the  gaping  husks.  Squashes 
and  huge  yellow  pumpkins  lay  basking  in  the  sun  in  the 
midst  of  their  brown  and  shrivelled  leaves.  Robins  and 
blackbirds  flew  about  the  fences,  and  every  thing  be- 
tokened our  near  approach  to  home  and  civilization.  The 
forests  that  border  the  Missouri  soon  rose  before  us,  and 
we  entered  the  wide  tract  of  bushes  which  forms  their 
outskirts.  We  had  passed  the  same  road  on  our  outward 
journey  in  the  spring,  but  its  aspect  was  now  totally 
changed.  The  young  wild  apple-trees,  then  flushed  with 
their  fragrant  blossoms,  were  hung  thickly  with  ruddy 
fruit.  Tall  grass  grew  by  the  roadside  in  place  of  tender 
shoots  just  peeping  from  the  warm  and  oozy  soil.  The 
vines  were  laden  with  purple  grapes,  and  the  slender 
twigs  of  the  swamp  maple,  then  tasselled  with  their  clus- 
ters of  small  red  flowers,  now  hang  out  a  gorgeous  dis- 
play of  leaves  stained  by  the  frost  with  burning  crimson. 


THE    SETTLEMENTS.  379 

On  every  side  we  saw  tokens  of  maturity  and  decay  where 
all  had  before  been  fresh  with  opening  life.  We  entered 
the  forest,  checkered,  as  we  passed  along,  by  the  bright 
spots  of  sunlight  that  fell  between  the  opening  boughs. 
On  either  side  rich  masses  of  foliage  almost  excluded  the 
sun,  though  here  and  there  its  rays  could  find  their  way 
down,  striking  through  the  broad  leaves  and  lighting 
them  with  a  pure  transparent  green.  Squirrels  barked 
at  us  from  the  trees;  coveys  of  young  partridges  ran 
rustling  over  the  fallen  leaves,  and  the  golden  oriole,  the 
blue- jay,  and  the  flaming  red-bird  darted  among  the  shad- 
owy branches.  We  hailed  these  sights  and  sounds  of 
beauty  by  no  means  with  unmingled  pleasure.  Many 
and  powerful  as  were  the  attractions  of  the  settlements, 
we  looked  back  regretfully  to  the  wilderness  behind  us. 

At  length  we  saw  the  roof  of  a  white  man's  dwelling 
between  the  opening  trees.  A  few  moments  after,  we 
were  riding  over  the  miserable  log-bridge  that  led  into 
Westport.  Westport  had  beheld  strange  scenes,  but  a 
rougher  looking  troop  than  ours,  with  our  worn  equip- 
ments and  broken-down  horses,  was  never  seen  even 
there.  We  passed  the  well-remembered  tavern,  Boone's 
grocery,  and  old  Vogel's  dram-shop,  and  encamped  on  a 
meadow  beyond.  Here  we  were  soon  visited  by  a  number 
of  people  who  came  to  purchase  our  horses  and  equip- 
ments. This  matter  disposed  of,  we  hired  a  wagon  and 
drove  to  Kanzas  landing.  Here  we  were  again  received 
under  the  hospitable  roof  of  our  old  friend  Colonel 
Chick,  and  seated  under  his  porch  we  looked  down  once 
more  on  the  eddies  of  the  Missouri. 

Deslauriers  made  his  appearance  in  the  morning, 
strangely  transformed  by  a  hat,  a  coat,  and  a  razor.  His 
little  log-house  was  among  the  woods  not  far  off.  It 
seems  he  had  meditated  giving  a  ball  in  honor  of  his> 


380  THE    OREGON   TRAIL, 

return,  and  had  consulted  Henry  Chatillon,  as  to  whether 
it  would  do  to  invite  his  bourgeois.  Henry  expressed  his 
entire  conviction  that  we  would  not  take  it  amiss,  and 
the  invitation  was  now  proffered  accordingly,  Deslauriers 
adding  as  a  special  inducement  that  Antoine  Lajeunesse 
was  to  play  the  fiddle.  We  told  him  we  would  certainly 
come,  but  before  evening  the  arrival  of  a  steamboat  from 
Fort  Leavenworth  prevented  our  being  present  at  the 
expected  festivities.  Deslauriers  was  on  the  rock  at  the 
landing-place,  waiting  to  take  leave  of  us. 

"  Adieu !  mes  bourgeois,  adieu !  adieu !  "  he  cried,  as 
the  boat  put  off ;  "  when  you  go  another  time  to  de  Rocky 
Montagues  I  will  go  with  you ;  yes,  I  will  go !  " 

He  accompanied  this  assurance  by  jumping  about, 
swinging  his  hat,  and  grinning  from  ear  to  ear.  As  the 
boat  rounded  a  distant  point,  the  last  object  that  met  our 
eyes  was  Deslauriers  still  lifting  his  hat  and  skipping 
about  the  rock.  We  had  taken  leave  of  Munroe  and  Jim 
Gurney  at  Westport,  and  Henry  Chatillon  went  down  in 
the  boat  with  us. 

The  passage  to  St.  Louis  occupied  eight  days,  during 
about  a  third  of  which  time  we  were  fast  aground  on 
sand-bars.  We  passed  the  steamer  Amelia  crowded  with 
a  roaring  crew  of  disbanded  volunteers,  swearing,  drink- 
ing, gambling,  and  fighting.  At  length  one  evening  we 
reached  the  crowded  levee  of  St.  Louis.  Repairing  to 
the  Planters'  House,  we  caused  diligent  search  to  be  made 
for  our  trunks,  which  were  at  length  discovered  stowed 
away  in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  store-room.  In  the 
morning,  transformed  by  the  magic  of  the  tailor's  art, 
we  hardly  recognized  each  other. 

On  the  evening  before  our  departure,  Henry  Chatillon 
came  to  our  rooms  at  the  Planters'  House  to  take  leave 
of  us.  No  one  who  met  him  in  the  streets  of  St.  Louis 


THE    SETTLEMENTS.  381 

would  have  taken  him  for  a  hunter  fresh  from  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  He  was  very  neatly  and  simply  dressed  in  a 
suit  of  dark  cloth;  for  although  since  his  sixteenth  year 
he  had  scarcely  been  for  a  month  together  among  the 
ahodes  of  men,  he  had  a  native  good  taste  which  always 
led  him  to  pay  great  attention  to  his  personal  appearance. 
His  tall  athletic  figure  with  its  easy  flexible  motions 
appeared  to  advantage  in  his  present  dress ;  and  his  fine 
face,  though  roughened  by  a  thousand  storms,  was  not 
at  all  out  of  keeping  with  it.  He  had  served  us  with  a 
fidelity  and  zeal  beyond  all  praise.  We  took  leave  of  him 
with  regret;  and  unless  his  changing  features,  as  he  shook 
us  by  the  hand,  belied  him,  the  feeling  on  his  part  was 
no  less  than  on  ours.  Shaw  had  given  him  a  horse  at 
Westport.  My  rifle,  an  excellent  piece,  which  he  had 
always  been  fond  of  using,  is  now  in  his  hands,  and 
perhaps  at  this  moment  its  sharp  voice  is  startling  the 
echoes  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  On  the  next  morning 
we  left  town,  and  after  a  fortnight  of  railroads,  coaches, 
and  steamboats,  saw  once  more  the  familiar  features  of 
home. 


